


Been about you and I'm still about you

by itsnotbleak



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Injuries, niall likes fossils, persuasion au, side nick/harry, some harry/louis flirting but it's mostly in Liam's head, unrealistic amount of boys talking about their feelings, zayn and louis fight but everything's ok i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotbleak/pseuds/itsnotbleak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis was successful, and he was happy, and he’d done it all without Liam. Liam was glad, mostly, because it meant he’d done the right thing when he’d broken things off, but it was hard to finally be so close to Louis and his glow, and still be stuck in the shadows.</p><p>A modern day Persuasion AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Been about you and I'm still about you

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I actually finished this?
> 
> This isn't britpicked, because I was like 'I don't need a britpick', but then I almost wrote a boxing day barbecue scene before realising why that wouldn't work, so like, I THINK it's fine but I apologise for any slang from the colonies that might have crept in.
> 
> Liam's family are awful in this, because it's a Persuasion AU. I bet Liam's family are really lovely in real life and this fic is not meant to imply otherwise! I thought about changing their names and I probably should have but I didn't, sorry.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Liam Payne generally felt, at twenty-five, that his life was going about as well as could be expected. It wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t always happy, but he was content, mostly. 

Bath certainly wasn’t the town he’d expected to end up in, but it was alright. His sister Ruth, who lived there already, had suggested he move there when he finished uni, saying it would be good for him to live close to family.  What she’d really meant was that it would be good for him to live somewhere where he could babysit for her all the time, but Liam didn’t have any better plans, so he went along with it. He’d intended it to be temporary, but Zayn had moved to Bristol, only a short train ride away, and he’d got his job, and it just became easier to stay then to leave. Bath was a bit posh, and Liam didn’t always feel like he belonged there, but it wasn’t Wolverhampton with his parents. It was fine.

He had a steady job that he didn’t hate, working in a small recording studio. It wasn’t, admittedly, a particularly good one, and he spent most of his days producing vanity projects for those willing to pay for studio time; rich parents who wanted their children to be stars, shitty bands convinced they were gonna be the next big thing. Actual talent was rare, and no, it wasn’t exactly what he’d dreamed off when he’d spent all that money on his music engineering degree, but it paid the bills. Liam knew he was a bit of a disappointment to his family, who thought by now he should be rich and famous, or at least successful and moderately wealthy. But Liam himself thought a job where he got to sit in front of a mixing desk all day was more than enough, even if what he was mixing wasn’t often very good.

Liam’s love life was, to be fair, a little bleak. It had started well. He’d fallen madly, desperately in love while at uni, but that had gone pear-shaped, and since then things had petered off to the occasional half-hearted date and a couple of one-night stands, and, if he was honest, he’d mostly stopped trying. But he wasn’t lonely, not like he had been as a kid. He had good friends now: Zayn, who he’d known forever, Niall, who he’d met through work, and Harry, who’d just sort of appeared one day and never gone away.

So no, Liam’s life wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was as much as he had any reason to expect. There had been a brief period in Liam’s life where the possibilities had seemed endless, and he’d thought maybe everything he’d ever secretly wanted might be within his grasp, but that had ended, and Liam had realised how silly it was to think all your dreams could really come true. An ok job, a few friends; that was about the best you could hope for, really. Anything more than that was greedy, and in Liam’s experience, unsustainable.

— 

Liam only went to Harry’s party because Harry had pulled his best pouty face when Liam said he didn’t think he could make it. Liam had been flattered to be invited (he was always slightly surprised when anyone other than Zayn or his nephews expressed a desire to have him around), but Harry’s parties always made him slightly nervous, filled as they always were with cool, intimidating people. He figured he’d go early and leave early, and avoid the worst of it. Harry wouldn’t really notice, as long as he made an appearance. Liam’s sister Ruth, however, had other ideas. She and her husband Charles had left the kids with Liam while they had spent the day at Ikea picking out a new couch and they’d not come back till much later than they said they would (again). Which meant that by the time Liam was making his way up Harry’s street it was much later than he’d planned, and he could hear the noise of the party seeping out, talking and laughter and the muffled thud of music. Harry’s party was in full swing.

Reluctantly Liam ignored the part of him that just wanted to turn around and go home, and made his way inside. Harry’s flat was packed, even though it was twice the size of Liam’s, and more than a little overwhelming. Zayn was supposed to be here somewhere though, so Liam poked his head into the crowded living room in search of him. There was no sign of Zayn, although Liam did spot Niall chatting to a bloke in the corner. From behind the guy looked vaguely familiar, short with messy brown hair, something in his stance that caused Liam’s heart to momentarily stutter, but Liam was forever doing that, catching a glimpse from afar of blue eyes or vaguely familiar tattoos and thinking— but they were never actually _him_. Liam ignored the brief swoop in his belly and pushed on to the kitchen without allowing himself a second glance. He’d catch up with Niall later.

In the kitchen he found Harry making pizza. Less than half the buttons on his shirt were done up, and he had flour on his nose. When he saw Liam he grinned.

“Liam!” he said, sounding pleased. “You made it!”

“Hey mate,” said Liam. “How’s it going?”

Liam accepted the beer Harry handed him gratefully, and stayed in the kitchen to chat while Harry assembled his pizzas. Harry’s pizzas were the fancy kind, with toppings like artichoke and goat’s cheese, and other things that Liam didn’t know the names of. They tasted good though.

Harry baffled Liam a lot of the time, but in a good way, always doing and saying things Liam didn’t realise people could do or say. Harry didn’t really have a job, as far as Liam understood, but he seemed to have plenty of money. His flat was large and comfortable and filled with things that looked old and shabby but were actually very expensive. Occasionally he made trips to London or LA and ended up in the tabloids partying with celebrities, but mostly he seemed to just hang about in Bath collecting antiques and cooking meals for his mates. On the face of it, Liam and Harry had very little in common, and yet talking to Harry was easy somehow, easier than talking to most of the people Liam had grown up with. 

Liam was just beginning to relax a bit, to feel glad he came after all, when he heard Niall’s loud cackle from the doorway behind him. Harry looked up from the peppers he was slicing and grinned.

“Niall! Louis!” Harry said. Liam froze. His mind flashed back to the strange brown-haired man Niall had been talking to when he arrived. His tummy started doing that swooping thing again. 

It couldn’t be. Not that Louis. If it was that Louis he wouldn’t have been sitting in a corner just chatting with Niall, he’d have been right in the thick of things, starting a game that got all Harry’s things broken, or possibly causing a small fire, or just somehow managing to get everyone around him completely and utterly hammered. 

Liam very carefully did not turn to look at the entrance to the kitchen. 

“What you doing hiding in here Hazza?” Niall asked.

“Making you some snacks,” said Harry. “It’s alright, Liam’s been keeping me company.”

“Payno!” cried Niall, like he'd only just noticed Liam hovering in the corner.

“Hey Niall,” Liam said, reluctantly turning around. Niall was a clearly a bit tipsy, a pink flush on his cheeks. And standing next to him was Louis Tomlinson, Liam’s ex-boyfriend.

Ex-fiancé, technically.

Louis didn’t look that tipsy himself, his grey eyes perfectly clear. His hair was longer than the last time Liam had seen him, and his face a bit thinner. He looked good though, if a bit stunned to see Liam, here, in Harry’s posh kitchen in Bath. That was probably fair. The last time they’d seen each other was in their shitty flat in Leeds, five years ago, when Liam had said he didn't think they should get married anymore. 

Liam flushed a little under Louis’s gaze, overwhelmed. He felt like all the disappointments of his life since then were somehow laid bare for Louis to see. Louis looked so good, and Liam was a tongue-tied mess. 

“Liam you’ve got to meet Louis! He’s a crack up!” Niall said, excited. Niall _would_ love Louis though, Liam thought. 

“We’ve met before actually,” said Louis, quickly schooling his stunned expression into a forced-looking grin. “But that was a long time ago now. It’s good to see you again Liam.” His tone was perfectly cordial, a cool politeness that lacked all the warmth Liam remembered. 

Harry looked curiously between them, like he was about to ask how they knew each other. Liam didn’t want that. He wanted to escape, as quickly as possible. 

“Yeah, you too,” he gabbled. “Fancy seeing you in Bath!” It was the kind of thing his mum would say when she ran into someone unexpected at the supermarket, and it came out of Liam’s mouth oddly high-pitched.

“Just here for work,” Louis said. He still sounded casual, genial even, but his arms were crossed across his chest. His defensive pose. 

“How nice,” said Liam, his voice still uncomfortably, falsely bright. “I’ve, um, I’ve just got to go find Zayn, sorry,” he said, and made a dash for it. 

What the fuck was Louis doing here? With Liam’s friends? Liam’s pulse was racing and he felt shaky. He pushed through Harry’s crowded flat, frantically seeking Zayn. 

He found him out in Harry’s little back garden, brooding attractively and smoking.

“Hey,” he said. He looked carefully at Liam. “I’m guessing you ran into him then.”

Liam nodded wildly. “Why is he here?”                                            

“Fuck knows,” said Zayn, tapping ash onto Harry’s perennial border. “To cause mischief, no doubt. Was he rude to you?”

“Nah.” Louis had been perfectly polite. That was worse. Louis had never been polite to him before. The first time they’d met he’d called Liam a twat and mussed up his hair. It had been affectionate, though Liam hadn’t realised at the time. “Did you talk to him?” 

“Nope. He looked straight through me and pretended not to see me.”                   

Liam frowned at that. Zayn and Louis had been good friends, once upon a time. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

“It’s late,” said Zayn. “Thought you weren’t coming. Or that you’d come and gone. Didn’t see the point in stressing you out.” He flicked his cigarette butt into the garden. “Also my phone’s dead. I’m sorry Li. Are you alright?” 

“I guess.”  It had been five years. He should be alright.

“Do you wanna go home?” 

“No,” said Liam, pulling himself together a bit. “I can cope. It’s not like he’ll want to talk to me again anyway. There are plenty of people here.”

“Ok,” said Zayn. “Wanna get pissed?”

“Yes,” said Liam, with feeling.  He wanted to get absolutely smashed.

**—**

He and Zayn had headed back inside after that and done several rounds of shots. Liam vaguely remembered drunkenly trying to explain to Zayn how running into Louis could be a good thing.

“It’s like, all this time I’ve been wondered what would happen if we ran into each other again. And now we have, and he’s obviously completely over me, so now I can stop thinking about it. It’s a good thing, I can finally move on.”

“Maybe,” said Zayn, and he poured another shot.

Then Nick Grimshaw and a couple of his friends had turned up and insisted on making banana daiquiris. Liam had quite enjoyed that, he’d never had a daiquiri before. After that he’d felt drunk enough to demand they go join the dancing in the living room. Zayn must have been pretty drunk too, because he didn’t put up a fight. By that point Liam had mostly managed to forget his ex-boyfriend was there at all, until he thought he caught Louis staring at him from across the room. But then Liam blinked and Louis was looking in the opposite direction. Liam shrugged and kept dancing. The last thing he remembered was taking a break on Harry’s couch. 

He must have fallen asleep, because that was where he woke up. It was morning, and someone had thrown a blanket over him. Zayn was curled up in the armchair next him. Liam got up and stumbled through to the kitchen, from where voices and the smell bacon of bacon drifted out towards him.

Nick and Niall were sitting at the kitchen table, both looking a little worse for wear.  Niall was slumped forward, his head resting on a placemat. Nick was managing to sit upright, but he looked decidedly pale. Harry was standing at the stove, cooking what looked like a mountain of food. His hair was a little wild looking, but he seemed much better off then Niall or Nick, his expression bright and cheerful. 

Louis was there too.

The sight of him made Liam freeze in the doorway. A sort of hazy glow had settled over the events of last night, softening them in Liam’s memory to the point where Louis’s sudden appearance had felt not quite real. But here in the cold daylight of Harry’s kitchen the reality of Louis’s presence was unmistakable, all sharp cheekbones and slightly too long hair. His chin was hooked over Harry’s shoulder, a familiar teasing expression on his face that made Liam’s insides squirm uncomfortably. Liam was still wearing the clothes he’d worn the night before, all wrinkled and gross, and he had a headache. He wondered if it was too late to leave again without being noticed, walk backwards out of the kitchen and slip out Harry’s front door. 

“Alright Liam?” said Nick, sounding a little faint. Harry and Louis looked up at that.  Something unrecognisable flickered across Louis’s face, before settling into a neutral, passive expression. Harry, however, gave Liam a welcoming smile.

“Morning Liam!” Harry said. Niall groaned at his cheery tone, but Harry just ignored him.  “I’m making breakfast if you want some, it’ll be ready soon.”

“Yes please,” Liam said, before he could stop himself. It would be rude to leave now, when Harry had cooked. Or perhaps it was just that the self-loathing hungover part of him thought that breakfast with Louis was an ordeal he needed to endure. He sat down at the table next to Nick, feeling blearly-eyed and faintly nauseous. 

“Do you want a tea Liam? Or coffee?” Harry asked, prodding at the bacon in his pan.  “Louis’s supposed to be doing that but he doesn’t seem to have got very far.”

“Cheeky,” said Louis, pinching Harry’s side.  Harry giggled and made a half-hearted attempt at swatting him with the spatula.

“Um, tea please,” Liam replied, a little awkwardly.  His head pounded.  He tried very hard not to think about where exactly Louis had slept last night.

Louis made no sign that he’d heard Liam, but a few minutes later a cup of tea appeared at Liam’s elbow. The first sip made Liam’s heart clench a little.  Louis had always complained that Liam ruined his tea with too much milk and too much sugar, but he’d always made it perfectly. Even now, apparently.

Zayn sauntered in then. Liam could tell he was mostly still asleep, his eyes unfocused, but while Liam felt icky and tired, Zayn just looked attractively tousled. It would be infuriating if Liam didn’t love him so much. Zayn grunted out a greeting in response to Harry’s chirpy good morning and then joined Niall napping on the table. He ignored Louis completely.

“You never told me how you and Liam know each other,” Harry said, once he’d served everyone an impressive full English.

Liam had known the question must be coming, but he still didn’t have an answer prepared. He flushed pink. Louis cleared his throat and said: “We used to know each other in Leeds.  Went to uni together.” 

Used to live together. Used to be in love, Liam thought, but didn’t say.

“I didn’t know you went to Leeds,” Harry said.

“Well, I, um, dropped out in my second year.  So not really,” replied Louis. Liam tried not to wince, tried not to let his mind fill with memories of endless arguments about the future and Louis’s ‘potential’.

“Oh well, if you knew Liam at Leeds you must’ve know Zayn too.” Harry said. He seemed oblivious to Louis’s discomfort, or the way Liam had tensed up, his hands wrapped tightly around his cutlery. Even Zayn was looking wary.

“Of course,” said Louis, “they’re kind of a package deal, aren’t they?”

Zayn scowled, but Liam didn’t think Louis had said anything that wasn’t true. Liam had latched onto Zayn in high school and never really let go. Zayn was his oldest friend, and for large parts of his life, his only one. Louis knew all that, no use pretending he didn’t. So he swallowed his mouthful of toast and said, “You know what, it was Zayn who introduced me to Louis, actually. They had a class together. Shakespeare, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” said Zayn, stabbing at a fried tomato. “Louis needed help with some of the big words.”

Louis’ face was like thunder. He opened his mouth, but Liam jumped in before he could retaliate. “That was all a long time ago now though,” he said hastily. “Ancient history. How did you meet Louis, Harry?”

“Oh!” said Harry, and he launched into a longwinded ramble during which Niall almost fell asleep again. The gist of it was that they had mutual friends in London and had been introduced the last time Harry had been there.

“And then, when I heard he was going to be in Bath shooting his next project, I thought, why not invite him round? And he doesn’t know anyone else around here so, y’know, it was good. Liam’s just around the corner from you actually Lou, so—”

“Hang on,” Nick interrupted.  Thank god, Liam thought. “Shooting his next project? Are you some kind of movie star?”

“Not quite. Not yet,” said Louis.

“He’s an up-and-coming actor,” said Harry happily. He put on a terrible American accent: “The next big thing.”

Zayn snorted. Louis glared. Liam intervened, again. “I’d heard you were doing well, Louis,” he said, politely. It wasn’t a lie. Louis had been in quite a few things lately. Liam couldn’t quite bring himself to actually watch any of it, but he’d read the reviews. Louis was doing well. 

Louis stopped glaring at Zayn to give Liam a sharp, questioning look. “I do alright for myself,” he said.

“You’re doing great,” said Harry. “The thing I always think about being famous is—”

Niall groaned. “Nope,” he said. “None of your thoughts about the ‘nature of fame’. I’m too hungover for this shit.”

“Hey,” Harry said, pouting.

“So what’s this thing you’re shooting?” Nick asked Louis, ignoring Harry, who was now trying to coax a smile out of Niall by cuddling up to him and stealing his mushrooms while Niall tried to fend him off with a fork.

“It’s a sort of Jane Austen-esque period drama, but a bit more racy.  Set in 1814, so they’re shooting here for all the regency buildings and stuff.”

“Ooh,” said Nick. “Are you the love interest? Or the one that’s charming but secretly a bad egg? Do you gamble away all your poor mother’s money and play with the hearts of innocent young ladies? Or are you gruff and rude but with a hidden heart of gold?”

Louis laughed. “I’m a naval Captain of humble origins who’s just returned from war,” he said. The conversation moved safely away from anything to do with Liam and Louis and their past, and the rest of breakfast passed uneventfully, if not entirely easily. Liam still felt on edge, but Nick, despite his hangover, was chatty enough that nobody seemed to notice that Liam, Louis and Zayn weren’t really talking to each other. Liam mostly just focused on his breakfast. He felt lightheaded, and he wasn’t sure if it was his hangover or sitting so close to Louis. He could've reached out and touched him, if he'd wanted. 

Liam left as soon after the meal as he thought it was polite to do so. Nick left at the same time. “That Harry’s a good one,” he said, as they walked down the street together. “I was feeling proper ill earlier but that breakfast fixed me right up. What’s with that Louis bloke though? Was all over Harry this morning but when I was dancing with you last night he was definitely giving me a nasty look.  You two star-crossed lovers or something?”

Liam chuckled weakly. “Nah mate, maybe he just didn’t like your dancing,” he said.  He had no idea why Louis would be angry with Nick but it wouldn’t have been jealousy. Maybe it was Liam Louis was glaring at, and Nick just got in between. Like Nearly-Headless Nick and the basilisk. Louis could be a bit like a basilisk, when he chose to be.

They reached the end of the street and went their separate ways, Nick turning left to go home, and Liam heading right for the bus stop. 

When his bus came he chose a seat near the back and huddled into it. His hangover had mostly subsided, leaving him with just a dull headache and a general feeling of grossness. He stared out the window and tried not to think about that night, several weeks into his first year at university, when Zayn had finally managed to drag him out for the evening.

“Come on, Liam,” he’d said. “This guy from my English class knows a guy who’s throwing a party.  It’ll be fun.”

Liam didn’t drink back then, and he generally avoided parties and other places where there’d be a lot of drunk people, but he also didn’t want Zayn to make a whole lot of new friends and leave him behind.  So he’d agreed to go, and there he’d met Louis. Loud, obnoxious Louis, who’d terrified and fascinated Liam in equal measure. He’d made fun of Liam’s hair and Liam had wanted to lock himself in the loo and cry. He didn’t, but by the end of the night Louis and Zayn were firm friends, a friendship apparently forged by winning beer pong and a shared joint smoked in the overgrown garden of a scuzzy student flat.

Liam had tried not to be bitter about it (after all, he probably wouldn’t have smoked with them even if he hadn’t been trapped inside talking to a girl he was fairly sure was trying to chat him up, too embarrassed and awkward to tell her he was gay), but what followed was several painful weeks in which Louis seemed to be constantly around, and constantly making fun of Liam, and Zayn didn’t seem to notice.

Zayn did notice, however, that Liam avoided Louis wherever possible, and asked him about it.

“He’s just loud.  And he’s always making fun of me,” Liam said, trying not to sound too pathetic.

“I think he’s just teasing, Li.”

“Maybe. I just don’t think he likes me very much.  Which is fine, I know I’m boring but–”

“You’re not boring Liam,” Zayn said firmly. “If he thinks you’re boring then he’s an arsehole and of course I’ll stop hanging out with him. But I don’t think he does. I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re great. He’s always asking about you.” He put his arm around Liam, pulling him in for a cuddle.

Liam considered it. Had Liam been misreading things? It didn’t really seem likely that there was anything about him for Louis to find great, but maybe it was possible Louis didn’t hate him as much has he thought.

The next time Louis teased Liam about being too sensible Liam didn’t purse his lips and ignore it, like he’d learnt was best with the kids at school. Instead he fired back a light-hearted “better than being late for everything like you.”  Looking back, it wasn’t the most daring or the most original of quips, but at the time it’d felt like a huge step. For a split-second, Louis had looked taken aback, and Liam thought he’d somehow mortally offended him.  What if he’d only been late today because his grandmother had died or something?  But then Louis had let out a loud cackle and dove on Liam, mussing his hair. Liam didn’t flinch and pull away, but reached out and ruffled Louis’s hair right back. The brilliant, proud grin Louis had given him then was engrained in Liam’s memory forever.

It wasn’t long after that that Liam had realised he pretty much always wanted Louis around. 

—

Once Harry had decided he wanted you to be his friend most people were powerless to resist, so Liam wasn’t exactly surprised when Louis kept turning up to things over the next few weeks – the pub on a Friday, one of Harry’s big, boozy dinner parties, Sunday brunch.

He still felt a weird jolt of shock each time he found himself in Louis’s company. It was, Liam reflected, slightly weird to have the man you once thought you were going to marry suddenly reappear, pulling faces at the roasted parsnips only metres away. Liam knew that the faces were because Louis hated parsnips, and that he always pulled the same face when he was disgusted but trying not to show it, just like Liam knew that Louis liked to sing in the shower and why Louis had a stag tattooed on his shoulder (“Because it looks fucking sick Liam, god, not everything has to be deep and meaningful”), and yet now they acted like strangers.

They talked to each other exactly once. Liam had gone to get a drink and come back to find Louis sitting in his chair.

“Oi,” Niall had said. “You’re in Liam’s seat.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Liam awkwardly. “I’ll just sit somewhere else.” 

But Louis had already stood up. “All yours, Liam,’ he said, with a tight smile, and went to sit at the other end of the table. And that was it. Just a few years ago they would have been inseparable, clamouring over each other to tell shared stories and trading loving glances across the room. Now they avoided each other completely, like magnets whose poles’ had somehow switched.

There was an invisible barrier between them, but Liam still couldn’t help watching Louis. The boy he’d been in love with all those years ago had been so loud, a brash, relentless ball of energy. This Louis was a man more settled in himself, filled with a much quieter, easy confidence. Back then, Louis had covered his insecurities up with a sort of over-the-top bluster; now, he didn’t seem to need to. But whenever Liam felt sad the boy he’d once known didn’t seem to exist anymore, Louis would scrunch his face up in laughter the same way he’d always done, or someone would say something and he’d respond with a look of disgusted incredulity that was just so undeniably Louis, and Liam would know he hadn’t really changed, not in essentials. 

This was small comfort for Liam though, no longer the object of Louis’s laughter or his snark. Louis was successful, and he was happy, and he’d done it all without Liam. Liam was glad, mostly, because it meant he’d done the right thing when he’d broken things off, but it was hard to finally be so close to Louis and his glow, and still be stuck in the shadows. 

Liam tried not to, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Louis was making similar observations about him.  Did Louis’s eyes flick to Liam when Liam wasn’t looking?  Was he too comparing Liam to his younger self?  It would be nice, in a way, to think that Louis still cared enough to be interested, but Liam wasn’t certain his character these days would hold up to much inspection; he was pretty sure he’d only gotten more boring as the years went by. 

Liam wasn’t entirely sure he wanted answers to these questions, but he got them, sort of. 

He was a party Harry had dragged him along to, thrown by some friend of a friend that Liam knew nothing about. He’d gone to pee and heard voices floating in from outside through the open bathroom window. It was Louis and Harry, and they were talking about Liam.

“It must be like, weird, seeing Liam again after all these years,” said Harry’s disembodied voice.

“Hmmm.” Louis’s tone was noncommittal, disinterested. Liam winced. He tried to focus on the map of the world shower curtain. Maybe he should go on a holiday, somewhere far away, where his ex-boyfriend couldn’t just show up out of the blue. Australia maybe. That was about as far away as you could get without coming back again, and it’d be a lot warmer.

“What was he like back then? Has he changed much?”

New Zealand was even further, looked like, but Liam didn’t know if the surfing was as good. Pretty mountains though, that was New Zealand wasn’t it?

“Yeah,” said Louis. “A lot, actually.” It was no good. Liam couldn’t tune it out. “Probably wouldn’t have recognised him at first if Niall hadn’t called him fucking ‘Payno’ seconds before…” Louis trailed off. Then, as if realising he’d shown too much emotion, he said brightly: “He had more hair back then. Bit like you curly.”

Then came the sounds of a scuffle, and Harry laughing. In the bathroom Liam’s heart felt like it was dangling around his knees. He’d mostly forgotten that it was Louis who’d first started calling him Payno. He’d had to, if he’d wanted to finish uni without having a breakdown every second time someone talked to him. Louis certainly knew how to make a thing stick.

There was a silence then, and Liam thought maybe that was it. But then came Louis’s voice, quiet, hesitant. “He seeing anyone, d’you know?”

“Nah,” came Harry’s reply. “Liam hardly ever dates. There was a guy, a while back, who seemed really into him, but it never went anywhere. Not sure why. Know Zayn didn’t think much of him though.”

There was a snort at that. “Sounds about right,” said Louis. Liam didn’t know what that meant, but the bitterness in Louis’s voice was obvious.

There was a bang on the bathroom door then, giving Liam a fright. “Just a sec!” he squeaked, his hands shaking a little as he rezipped his fly.  He left the bathroom and didn’t go near Louis for the rest of the night.

So Louis thought he’d changed beyond recognition, and he didn’t make it sound like an improvement. Liam told himself it was good, knowing for certain Louis wasn’t interested in him anymore, that he didn’t see anything in Liam he recognised or cared about. Louis asking about his dating life was probably just seeking confirmation Liam was as pathetic as he seemed. It was fine, Liam had no right to expect anything else from Louis. It hurt, but Liam had been hurting for five years now. Being around Louis again meant right now the hurt was bigger and sharper than it had been for ages, but it might also be the thing that finally dulled it. It was like having new shoes, Liam thought; they gave you blisters, but the only way to get comfortable in them was to keep wearing them until the blister went away. You just had to grin and bear it for a bit.

“That’s rubbish,” said Zayn, when Liam explained this theory to him. “You don’t just keep wearing new shoes when they give you blisters Liam! What do you do, just bleed all over your new sneakers? Nah, you wear your old shoes for a bit, until the blister’s gone. Or you at least put a sticking plaster on it.” 

“I don’t think they make sticking plasters for ex-boyfriends.”

“Oh Liam,” cooed Zayn, who was a bit drunk. “I’ll be your sticking plaster.”

Liam appreciated the thought, but he suspected Zayn’s idea of being a plaster involved more snarky comments in Louis’s direction, and he didn’t think that would help much. No, the only way past this was through, and if he got a bit of blood on his shoes so be it. So Liam sat through the dinner parties, observing Louis from afar but never talking to him, watching him joke with strangers and flirt with Harry, and told himself that this was helping.

It did seem to, a bit. A few weeks passed in which Liam was regularly thrown into Louis’s presence, and Liam no longer felt hot all over whenever they had to share a room. In fact, Liam thought, he was almost used to having Louis around again.

That’s when the universe sent him a test, of course. 

Liam was having Zayn, Harry and Niall over for a movie night. They did that sometimes, just the four of them. Harry always called it ‘lads’ night’ and tried to make them play poker, but he always lost, and then he sulked. So. The Italian Job and pizza it was. 

Liam had managed to do a shop, bought beer and Niall’s favourite crisps and the fancy dark chocolate Harry liked, but then things had started to go wrong. Liam thought maybe he could try making his own pizzas like Harry did, but his first attempt at dough turned into a sticky mess that stubbornly refused to rise and was neither smooth nor springy like Jamie Oliver promised. Then Ruth turned up with the boys, full of drama because Charlie had broken his arm. Liam didn’t really feel like he could tell her to go away then, so he’d stopped scraping dough off his counter to admire Charlie’s cast and listen to Ruth describe their ordeal. He made sympathetic noises in the right places and ignored her snide comments about the nurses.

“It was awful Liam,” Ruth said. “We were there for hours yesterday. I’m positively exhausted. I think what I need is a night off, and Charles has tickets for this concert tonight.  You’ll watch the boys for us, won’t you?”                                                                                                          

“Er,” Liam said, heart sinking. “I’ve got people coming round actually.”

“That must be nice,” said Ruth. “To just be able to have your friends over whenever you want. I can’t remember the last time I did that. But Charlie and Walter won’t be a problem.  They’ll be in bed by the time your friends turn up anyway.”

“I guess,” Liam said. “But won’t you be worried about Charlie?”

“Well, obviously,” Ruth said.  “But he’s much better than he was, and I’ll be worried whether I stay with him or not. So I might as well go out and try and enjoy myself. He’ll probably be happier with you anyway.”

Charlie did look alright. He and Walter had pulled out the crate of duplo Liam kept for them, and Charlie was clumsily building a tower with one arm, while his younger brother haphazardly stuck blocks together.

“Yeah, okay,” said Liam. It wasn’t like saying no to Ruth ever really made much of a difference.

“You’re the best baby bro!” Ruth said, and then she was out the door.

Charlie and Walter were occupying themselves, so Liam had another go at the pizza dough. It was harder than Harry made it look, it turned out.

When started to get late he fed the boys some fish fingers and sent them off to get ready for bed. It was only then that he went back into the living room and saw the damage they’d done. There was duplo everywhere.  Charlie’s tower had clearly collapsed abruptly, and scattered rubble to the far corners of the room. Charlie did not seem to have made any attempt at rebuilding it. They’d moved on from the duplo to the toy cars, and Liam’s rather expensive batman figurines. The crisps he’d given them as an afternoon snack appeared to be mostly crushed into the carpet.

“Fuck,” he said. Walter giggled from the doorway. “Go put your jammies on,” Liam told him.

“Charlie needs help. His arm’s in the way!” Walter said.

Liam sighed and gave the chaos in his living room one last worried glance before heading through to the bedroom to sort Charlie out. There were only ten minutes until the others were supposed to arrive. Lucky they were always late. He pushed a toothbrush in both boys’ hands and planted them in front of the bathroom sink and then rushed back into the living room to hurriedly to pick up pieces of duplo.

The doorbell rang.

Liam stumbled towards the door. Whoever it was was a good two minutes early, which was unprecedented.

It was Louis. Louis, who was most certainly not on Liam’s guest list. 

Liam blinked. His ex-fiancé was still on his doorstep.                

 “Hi,” said Louis. “Sorry, am I early?”

“You’re never early,” said Liam, without really meaning to. “Late for everything.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a changed man.” He said it with a look that clearly said ‘you don’t know me anymore.’

Liam just stared.

“For fuck’s sake Liam, it’s not like me being on time is that stunning.” Liam didn’t know what to say. Then Louis clicked. “Harry didn’t tell you he invited me, did he?”

“Uh,” said Liam. He was feeling very articulate today.

“Oh,” said Louis. “Um, I’ll just go then. Sorry.”

“No!” said Liam, forcing himself to get a grip. “Sorry, you just surprised me, come in.”

He moved clear of the doorway. Louis took a hesitant step over the threshold, and into Liam’s hallway.

They just stared awkwardly at each other for a moment.  Liam was suddenly very aware that they hadn’t been alone together since he’d said “I don’t think we should do this”, and pulled off his engagement ring.

Louis coughed. Liam said: “Can I get you a drink?”

Before Louis could answer, Charlie came tearing out into the hallway, a ring of toothpaste around his mouth. “Uncle Liam,” he shouted. “Walter broke—” Then he noticed Louis and clammed up, tucking himself into Liam’s side and grabbing his hand.

“Charlie, this is Louis,” said Liam. He looked at Louis. “You remember Charlie?” he said.

Louis was staring down at Charlie looking slightly startled. At Liam’s words he seemed to shake himself. “Of course,” he said. “You’ve grown so much I didn’t recognise you Charlie! You were just a baby last time we met.”

Charlie just stared at him shyly.

“That’s an impressive looking cast,” Louis said, crouching down to Charlie’s level. “How did you get that?”

“Fell off the monkey bars,” said Charlie.

“Oooooh,” said Louis, sounding impressed. “I’ve done that. I broke my arm three times when I was a kid.”

“Really?” said Charlie. He sounded suspicious, but he wasn’t hiding anymore.

“Really really,” Louis confirmed. “Once on the monkey bars, and once trying to do a flip on the trampoline, and once falling off my skateboard.”

“You can skateboard?” Charlie had completely detached himself from Liam now, and was staring at Louis with a look of open admiration. Liam thought he knew how he felt.

“Yup,” said Louis.

“Will you teach me?” Charlie said.

“Uh,” said Louis with an awkward glance at Liam. “Maybe when that arm’s better.”

“Come on, Charlie, you should be in bed,” said Liam, trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. “What’s Walter broken now?”

“You promised us a story,” Charlie said, with a pout.

“I can smell burning,” said Walter, appearing in the doorway.

“Fuck,” said Liam, rushing to the kitchen. His second attempt at dough had been slightly less disastrous than the first, but still slightly dubious, so he’d made a test pizza. He’d put it in the oven, but then he’d gotten distracted trying to put the boys to bed. He pulled it out. It was burnt to a crisp. “Fuck.”

“Don’t swear!” said Charlie from the doorway. He, Walter and Louis had evidently followed Liam to the kitchen.

“Oh god,” said Liam. “You’re supposed to be in bed, why aren’t you in bed? The others will be here soon and the place is a mess and I’ve fucked up the food.”

“Deep breaths, Liam,” Louis said. Liam just looked at him wildly. “Hey kids, how about we leave your uncle to sort this out and I read you a story?” Louis suggested, looking down at Walter and Charlie.

“Will you do voices?” said Walter.

“Of course,” said Louis. Then he looked at Liam. “That alright with you Liam? I’d offer to help in the kitchen but my talents there haven’t improved much.”

Liam gave a surprised laugh, overwhelmed. “Neither have mine apparently.” Then, because he couldn't think of a better plan, he agreed. “Yeah, ok, you put them to bed. One story only,” he said, with a stern look at Walter and Charlie.

Neither Walter nor Charlie looked particularly upset to have their uncle replaced by a near stranger. Charlie was beaming, and Walter looked like he was already busy scheming how to talk Louis into a second and possibly third story.

Liam tipped his ruined pizza into the bin. As he finished cleaning up the living room he could hear the low murmur of Louis’s voice coming from the bedroom. He was pretty sure it was ‘The Tiger Who Came to Tea’, which seemed fitting. He was back in the kitchen, eying up the rest of his pizza dough and debating whether to just call Dominos, when Louis reappeared.

“Kids are down,” he said, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

“Thanks,” said Liam. He didn’t know what else to stay.

“Any reason you’re playing host to two small children tonight?”

“Ruth needed some help.”

“Still letting your family walk all over you then?”

Liam didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything.

“Doesn’t she want to be with her kids? He just broke his bloody arm.”

“It was yesterday.” Louis just raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. “She’s not a bad mother,” Liam said. “She just gets overwhelmed sometimes.”

Louis didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say anything more. An awkward silence reigned. Just when it started to get oppressive, and Liam thought he was in danger of snapping, and saying all the things he wasn’t supposed to say, like ‘I miss you’ or ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘sometimes I wonder if leaving you was the biggest mistake I ever made’, the doorbell rang, and Harry was there.

“Hello,” said Harry, filling the stale air in Liam’s kitchen with breezy cheerfulness. “Louis! You made it! I invited Louis Liam, I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course,” said Liam. “No problem.” 

Niall wasn’t far behind, and Liam and Louis both went back to pretending the other wasn’t there.

Zayn was last to arrive, and when he saw Louis he narrowed his eyes, but thankfully didn’t say anything. Things between them had not improved since the morning after Harry’s party; if they did interact it was solely to snipe at each other. Liam still hadn’t quite got to the bottom of why they seemed to hate each other so intensely now, but tonight had been stressful enough already. He focused instead on where Harry was dubiously inspecting his pizza dough.

“I don’t know what you’ve done,” Harry said, prodding at it.

“Let’s just get takeaways,” Liam said.

“Okay,” said Harry. “But come round sometime and I’ll show you how to do it. It’s not that hard.”

“I’m sure,” said Liam. “I’m just a bit useless.”

They ordered chinese and watched the movie. Louis and Harry ended up in a scuffle over the last spring roll. Harry got it first, but Louis launched himself across the sofa and tried to wrestle it off him. Harry just cackled and held it out behind him, beyond Louis’s reach.

“Alright loverbirds, keep it in your pants,” said Niall, nicking the disputed spring roll out of Harry’s outstretched hand and eating it himself.

Harry just flipped Niall off, but Louis pulled back to his side of the sofa. Liam could feel Zayn watching him, so he concentrated very carefully on looking unaffected. “Who wants another drink?” he asked, and then scuttled off to the kitchen.

He leaned his head against the kitchen cupboards and took a deep breath. It wasn’t like Liam hadn’t noticed the flirting. He had. Harry and Louis had spent the last few weeks hanging off each other, with a lot of jokes and laughter. Harry seemed fascinated by Louis, which Liam understood. Louis seemed slightly baffled by Harry’s interest, but he’d matched Harry flirty grin for flirty grin. Liam had noticed all this, and told himself he didn’t mind. And he didn’t. It was just, there was a difference between quietly noticing something on your own and having it openly acknowledged by others. 

Niall poked his head into the kitchen. “You alright, Li?” he asked.

“Yep,” said Liam.

Niall got two beers out of the fridge. He passed one to Liam. Liam took a grateful swig.

“Niall,” he said. “Are Louis and Harry sleeping together?”

Niall shrugged. “Dunno,” he said. “I don’t ask questions about Harry’s love life. He’ll spend an hour telling you all about his favourite sex positions.” 

Liam snorted. “Fair enough.” He’d had a conversation like that with Harry once. It had been both fascinating and deeply embarrassing. He picked at the label on his beer bottle, and forced himself to review what he’d seen of Louis and Harry. There was certainly a lot of flirting, lots of touching and joking around and, on Harry’s part, some truly unsubtle innuendo. But Liam didn’t know if it went further than that. Yet. Surely it was only a matter of time. 

Liam knew Louis was looking for love, was the thing. Hidden away, stuck between the pages of fishing book Liam had been given and knew Zayn would never look at, was an interview with Louis that Liam had torn out of one of Ruth’s magazines. Liam looked at it sometimes, when he was sad or lonely and wanted to pick at the bits inside him that hurt. There was one bit Liam had read over and over again, with a painful ache in his chest:

 

 ** _Int:_ ** _So what'_ _s next for Louis Tomlinson?_

 **_LT:_ ** _Obviously I want to keep acting, keep working on new and exciting things. But I'_ _ve focused on my career a lot lately, and my personal life_ _’s been a bit neglected. I_ _’d like to fix that. Work_ _’s important, but other things are too._

 **_Int:_ ** _So you_ _’d say you_ _’re looking for love then?_

 **_LT:_ ** _Yeah, I reckon. I want someone to come home to at the end of the day, you know? And kids and all that, eventually. I'_ _ve always wanted a big family._

 **_Int:_ ** _Are you looking for any qualities in particular?_

 **_LT:_ ** _Oh I'_ _m not fussy, me. Nice eyes and a good sense of humour and I_ _’m yours. You gotta be able to stand up for yourself though. Can_ _’t stand people who just let other people tell them what to do all the time, you know?_

 

Harry had lovely green eyes, and he never did anything he didn’t want to, even if he went about it in a slightly different way from Louis. More of a slither-outer than a runaway train of defiance, but nevertheless effective. It made sense that Louis would pick him. True, Harry had never shown much interest in a serious relationship before, but he’d never had Louis around before. Nobody but Liam would be stupid enough to turn down what Louis had to offer. It was only a matter of time.

Louis was looking for love, and Harry was very lovable. Liam took another swig of his beer, and followed Niall back into the living room. No use moping about it.

“Grimmy’s got this plan,” said Harry, when Niall and Liam returned. “To rent a cottage by the sea in Lyme Regis for a weekend. He invited me. I think we should all go.”

Liam felt a sudden childlike swell of excitement. He loved the seaside. Swimming, and ice cream, and building sandcastles. But. “It’s December,” he said, confused. “Won’t it be cold?” 

Harry gave him the look he always did whenever Liam didn’t quite get something. Exasperated, and slightly patronising. “Yes,” he said, “It’ll be great. All, like, moody and grey. Atmospheric. Winter’s the best time to go.”

“Sounds like a load of bollocks to me,” said Louis. “But I’m game.”

Sharing a cottage by the seaside with his ex-fiancé and his possible new flame didn’t really seem like a great idea to Liam, but he didn’t want to spoil the fun. Maybe he’d find a way to get out of it.

“Why Lyme Regis?” he asked.

“Fossils!” said Niall, very excited. “They’ve got tons of fossils. It’s where they found the first dinosaurs!" He's off then, telling Liam all about the ichy-something-or-other. Liam didn't understand a word of it, but he liked hearing Niall sound so passionate. Niall never seemed embarrassed by the things he cared about, he always wanted to share them. So Liam nodded along, trying to look as if he knew what Niall was talking about.

"You weren't a dinosaur kid, huh?" Niall said, when he realised he'd lost Liam. 

"No," said Liam. "I liked trains." The kid down the road he sometimes played with had had a truly impressive train set, but he’d never let Liam play with it because he thought it was boring. Liam had mostly contented himself with watching the same episodes of Thomas the Tank Engine his mum had recorded off the telly, over and over again, until Nicola had taped over them. 

"I liked the Spice Girls," said Harry. 

"We all have our foibles," said Zayn.

Louis didn’t say anything, but Liam caught his mouth twitch, just slightly. Liam wasn’t sure whether it was at the thought of baby Harry dancing around to the Spice Girls, or that Louis knew just as well as Liam did that Zayn still had a full set of power rangers figurines in his bedroom back home.

The night progressed. Liam managed to talk Harry out of poker, thankfully. He didn’t think that Louis’s competitiveness and Zayn’s knack for winning without even seeming to try would help ease the tension between them.

Harry was just starting to make a case for scrabble instead when there came a small, tentative voice from the doorway.  

“Uncle Liam?” said Charlie, looking timid in his blue pyjamas.

“Hey buddy,” Liam said. “What’s up? You should be asleep.”

Charlie gave a shy look at the strangers in the room, and then made a dash for Liam. “My arm hurts,” he said, burying his head in Liam’s side. Liam picked him up into his lap so he could give him a proper cuddle.

“I know buddy,” he said. “I’m sorry. You should try and get some sleep anyway.”

“I can’t!” Charlie wailed. “It hurts!”

Liam didn’t know what to do. He’d given Charlie his pain medication before bed, he couldn’t give him anymore. But Charlie was sad and hurting and Liam was helpless.

“Hey Charlie,” Louis said from across the living room. “I think Niall here is dying to hear exactly what happened to your arm.”

“Yeah, Charlie, come tell me all about it,” said Niall, even though he looked faintly repulsed at the thought.

“And if you ask Zayn nicely he’ll probably draw something cool on your cast for you,” Louis continued.

Zayn looked startled, but he just said, “Of course.”

Liam wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Surely Charlie should be trying to sleep? But he was looking slightly chirpier already.

“Can you draw me Batman?” said Charlie, sitting up from where he was huddled into Liam.

“I reckon so,” said Zayn.

“Come on Charlie, come sit over here,” Louis said. “Your uncle will put Toy Story on, how does that sound?”

Charlie just nodded.

“You can sit with me,” said Harry enthusiastically. “I love Toy Story.”

“Old boney knees? Nah, you wanna sit with me Charlie,” said Niall. “Now what have you done to this arm, huh?”

Charlie clambered over to Niall and animatedly described his fall off the very highest monkey bars, and the noise his arm had made, and how he didn’t cry at all, not even a little bit, while Harry made impressed noises and Niall tried not to look revolted. Liam must have still looked worried though, because Louis said, in an undertone, “Don’t worry Liam, he just needs something to take his mind off it.” 

“Shouldn’t he be sleeping though?” Liam said, biting his lip.

“Yeah, but he won’t get to sleep if he’s just lying in the dark thinking about how much his arm hurts. He’ll conk out as soon as you put the movie on probably, trust me.”

And Liam did trust Louis, even now, so he put on Toy Story. Twenty minutes in, Charlie was fast asleep, curled up next to Zayn with a freshly drawn batman on his cast. Harry, however, had become engrossed in Toy Story and wouldn’t let them switch back to heist movies.

Charlie proudly showed off his newly decorated cast to his mum the next morning when she came to pick the boys up. “Look Mum! Zayn drew me batman! And Louis said when my arm was better he’d teach me to skateboard.”

“Who’s Louis?” said Ruth.

“You remember Louis,” Liam said. “From Leeds.”

“That bloke you were gonna marry?”

Liam flushed. “Yeah.” Once Charlie had been tucked back into bed, Louis had gone back to barely acknowledging Liam’s existence. He hadn’t even really said goodbye, just waved vaguely in Liam’s direction before heading out the door. The idea that they had once planned on getting married seemed slightly absurd.

“You had your boyfriend over while you were watching my children?”

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore. There were other people here too. I told you I was having people over.”

But Ruth wasn’t listening. “Hang on,” she said. “Isn’t he famous now? I saw him in Heat once. He does movies doesn’t he?”

“He was in a movie, yeah,” said Liam. He really wished this conversation was over.

Luckily, Walter seemed to feel the same. “C’mon Mum,” he said, tugging on the hem of Ruth’s jacket. “I wanna go home.”

“Oh alright,” said Ruth irritably. “God, they’re always such terrors after they’ve been with you Liam. I bet you’ve fed them cocoa pops for breakfast again.”

Liam had, but only because Charlie was poorly. He just smiled and waved them out his front door.

He went for a run after that. He took his usual route, down through the park, but this time he found himself stopping by the Royal Crescent. He stood on the lawn staring up at the tall, regal houses arched perfectly in front of him, all beige stone and elegant columns. They looked like the set of one of his mum’s period dramas, not places people actually lived.

He and Louis had come here together once, a long time ago. Back when Ruth had first had little Charlie Liam had come to Bath to meet his new nephew, and Louis had insisted on coming too. He didn’t want Liam’s family ganging up on him, he’d said. You let them walk all over you, he’d said. They’d gone for a walk to briefly escape the madness of a house with Liam’s whole family and a newborn in it, and found themselves here. Louis had immediately gone racing across the grass, unable to resist a wide expanse of lawn he probably wasn’t supposed to be on. He’d done a couple of fairly lacklustre cartwheels and then tackled Liam to the ground. It had been one of those brilliant spring days where the sun shines brighter then winter had let you think it ever could again. They’d lain in the grass staring up at the blue sky with the buildings of the crescent towering elegantly above them.

“How loaded do you have to be to live in one of those d’you reckon?” Louis had asked, idly pulling at bits of lawn.

“I dunno,” said Liam. “More then either of us will ever be, probably.”

“Speak for yourself Liam,” Louis said, yanking particularly forcefully on a blade of grass. “I’m going to be exactly that loaded. Maybe more.”

“I’m sure you will be,” Liam had agreed, closing his eyes and feeling the sun warm his eyelids, and his legs, and the sliver of skin on his side where his shirt’d ridden up. He’d lain there peacefully, until Louis got bored and started tickling him with the grass he’d plucked.

“Stop that!” Liam giggled.  A brief scuffle took place, only ending once Liam had managed to climb on top of Louis and pin him down.

“Will you behave?” Liam asked.

“Never!” Louis said, somehow managing to roll them over so he was the one on top of Liam. “But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” said Liam, and he tilted his head up for a kiss. He had thought then that his life couldn’t get any better than this, lying in the grass on a sunny day in late April, kissing Louis.  Maybe he’d been right.

When they broke apart, Louis had grinned down at him and said: “I love you too.”  Then he’d got that wild glint in his eyes, the one that meant he was about challenge Liam to something outrageous. 

“I love you so much”, he’d said, voice daring, “that I think we should get married.  Marry me Liam, and one day I’ll buy you one of them fancy houses.”

Liam paused. “I dunno,” he said. “They’re a bit posh for us, don’t you think?”

“Liam,” Louis said impatiently. “That wasn’t really the most important part of what I just said.” His grin had faded, and he was looking a little nervous.

“I know, I just needed a minute to process the other bit.”

Louis scrunched up his face in annoyance.  Liam stared up at him. How the fuck did I get so lucky, he’d thought.

“Yeah, alright,” he said.

“Yeah?” said Louis, a brilliant smile breaking on his face.

“Yeah, of course,” said Liam, and he’d pulled Louis in for another kiss.

Standing there now, over five years later on a cold November morning, Liam shook his head. Such silly buildings. They weren’t real.  He ran on.

—

Liam did not manage to find a way out of going to Lyme. In fact, as he was the only one with a car, Harry declared his presence essential to the plan. “We need you Liam,” he wheedled, and a week later, Liam found himself driving south, Harry in the front seat beside him, or else he’d be sick, he claimed, and Louis, Niall and Zayn in the back. Zayn was sullen, because it was early; Niall was buzzing, filled with genuine excitement at the prospect of a road trip with his mates; and Louis was kicking the back of Harry’s seat and cracking jokes that made Niall red with laughter. Liam just tried to concentrate on the road in front of them.

When they arrived Liam found that what Harry had described as ‘a cottage by the sea’ was in fact a house far bigger and fancier than Liam’s family home. Nick was already there, having gone on ahead for reasons that were unclear to Liam.

They spent the rest of the morning exploring Lyme. Bundled up in winter coats, they wandered through the small town centre, down the high street towards the beach. Liam bought a postcard to send to his nephews, and they all bought cornish pasties for lunch that turned out to be decidedly average. They ended up at the Lyme Regis Museum, which contained an eclectic mix of fossils, fishing paraphernalia and literary history.

Niall got excited when he saw that the museum offered ‘fossil walks’, guided tours of the area led by a local geologist.

“There’s one this afternoon,” said Niall. “Let’s go!”

He got blank looks all round. “I was thinking more the pub,” said Nick. There was a murmur of agreement. Niall looked crestfallen.

“I’ll go, Niall,” said Liam. “Looks like fun.” Some space from Louis would be good, he figured.

It was fun, actually. They walked along the beach, picking their way through the rocks and looking at all the different things the tour guide pointed out to them. Liam understood about one word in ten that the guy leading the walk said, but Niall’s excitement was infectious. It was cold, but Liam sort of understood what Harry meant about the sea in winter; you wouldn’t want to go swimming, but it was impressive the way it swirled around like that, like it was having a battle with the grey sky above.

Even if Liam hadn’t enjoyed himself it would have been worth it for how much Niall liked it. By the time they headed back to meet the others at the pub, Niall was beaming. They’d posed for one of Niall’s carefully framed selfies standing at the base of the cliffs so that Niall could get a picture of them with the layers of stone that had a fancy name Liam couldn’t remember, and then Niall had found his very own fossil. It just looked like a rock to Liam, but Niall said it was millions of years old. He kept grinning down at it, an awestruck look on his face.

“Thanks for coming Liam,” he said.

“It was fun,” Liam said, with a grin. “I even learnt something.”

“You're a good lad Liam.” Niall gave Liam a knowing look. “Even if you did only come to avoid Louis.”

Liam paused. “What?"

“I spent two hours this morning squashed in between Louis and Zayn. I’ve figured out you guys don’t all get along.”

His tone was light, but Liam knew better. Niall didn’t exactly cope well with tension. He’d wondered if some of the laughter in the car this morning hadn’t been slightly the wrong side of manic. “I’m sorry Niall, I’ll talk to Zayn, get them to dial it back a bit—“

Niall just waved a dismissive hand at Liam. “Whenever he enters a room you go all quiet and sad looking,” he said. “And Zayn turns dark and scowly. Did you guys get into some kind of fight back in uni or something?”

Liam scrunched up his nose. “Not exactly.”

Niall narrowed his eyes. “Did he hurt you? Don’t get me wrong, I think Louis’s great but if he hurt you I will fuck him up.”

“No!” said Liam quickly. “No, he didn’t hurt me. It was the other way round, if anything.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Niall. “But whatever it was, you know we’re not going to drop you just because you don’t get on with Harry’s new best friend. Right?”

“I know that.” Had he known that? He probably should have. “But I didn’t want to make it into a big thing. Seemed easier just to pretend everything was fine. Didn’t work, I guess. Sorry Nialler.”

“Hmmm,” said Niall, but by then they were outside the pub, and he couldn’t say much more.

—

Liam couldn’t sleep that night.  His chat with Niall had made everything feel better, briefly. The pub had been fine. Niall had acted as a buffer between him and Louis wherever possible, and had tried to intervene whenever it looked like Liam and Louis might be forced to interact. It wasn’t, admittedly, always particularly subtle, but Liam appreciated the effort.

Except Liam couldn’t help but feel slightly uneasy, like he’d tricked Niall somehow by not telling him everything. When he’d climbed into bed and tried to sleep that slight unease had magnified into a gnawing anxiousness, and he’d tossed and turned in the strange bed that was, technically, far more comfortable than his cheap mattress at home, but that smelled all wrong.

This wasn’t a war, and there weren’t sides. Niall hadn’t stopped liking Louis or anything. His main method of keeping Liam and Louis apart had been to drag Louis off for a pool tournament. And yet, Liam couldn’t help feeling like he’d gained Niall’s support under false pretences. If Niall knew what had actually happened between him and Louis then surely Niall would think that Liam only had himself to blame. 

Sick of staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, Liam got up to get a glass of water. As he crept down the corridor he heard voices coming from the living room. Liam had thought everyone else had long gone to bed, but apparently he was wrong. As he drew nearer, he realised it was Louis and Zayn. They were arguing. Proper arguing, it sounded like, with raised voices and swearing instead of barbed comments and thinly veiled insults. Thank god, Liam thought. He’d been wondering when that would finally happen.

Louis and Zayn had always had a slightly intense relationship. They’d clicked instantly when they’d first met, become so close so quickly. Liam hadn’t understood, because he didn’t really get Louis, and he didn’t like that his best friend had found someone else. But even after he and Louis had figured things out, had worked out how to be friends and more, Liam hadn’t quite managed to fit himself in between them. He hadn’t minded, because he’d loved them both, and together and apart they’d both always had a space for him. But Zayn and Louis had a closeness he couldn’t quite breach; they understood each other in ways he just couldn’t.

The trouble was, they’d also always had an uncanny ability to rark each other up. Louis could never just leave Zayn alone to sulk in peace, and if Zayn thought Louis was talking shit he never failed to let him know, so what started as a few snarky remarks always seemed to rapidly escalate. Liam had hated it, always stuck trying to play peacekeeper while they ignored him and hurled insults at each other like school children. But it was usually over quickly. The endless simmering tension of the last few weeks had unnerved Liam, even though it wasn’t really his business anymore. He’d been waiting for it to break. 

Liam crept closer to the living room door, trying to make out what they were arguing about.

“Where the fuck is it, Louis?” That was Zayn.

“I never touched your fucking book! What the fuck would I want with your twatty whiny poetry?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never understood why you do anything you do! But I know you were always bloody messing with my shit!”

“Zayn,” Louis said harshly. “It’s been five years. I no longer give a fuck about you or any of your possessions.”

Zayn just snorted at that. “Yeah, sure.”

“What does that mean?” They weren’t yelling any more. Louis’s voice was icy.

“Just that for someone who apparently doesn’t give a fuck you’ve been acting like a moody cunt.”

Louis didn’t say anything. That wasn’t normally a good sign. In Liam’s imagination he was fixing Zayn with his most potent death stare.

“Come on, Louis. You saw me at Harry’s party and you looked straight past me. Pretended you didn’t know who I was. That’s not what you do when you don’t care.”

Louis still didn’t answer. Zayn sighed. “Will you stop being such a dickhead? I’m not the one who left you.”

Louis did speak at that. “Funny. Can’t say I’ve seen much of you these last few years.”

“Liam needed me.”

“Hmm. I guess you can’t convince someone to ditch their fiancé and then side with the fiancé in the break-up.”

Liam felt ill. Louis thought Zayn had talked him into it?

“I didn’t tell Liam to break up with you,” Zayn said. His voice was calm, like he was talking to a stubborn toddler.

“Well you didn’t exactly encourage him to keep me around.”

There was a pause. Then Zayn said: “He was worried.  He was worried about the future and you couldn’t hold down a job for more than two minutes and his family were giving him shit and when he tried to talk to you about it all you would do was wave your hands around and say ‘It’ll be fine Liam’.” 

“That should have been enough for him.” Louis sounded defiant, and hurt, and it made Liam feel awful.

“But it wasn’t. He was worried and scared and _sad_ and you either didn’t see it or you didn’t care, so no, I didn’t tell him to leave you but I sure as fuck didn’t try and talk him out of it.”

A long silence met that statement. Then Louis, voice cold, said: “Harry’s got your book. He thought it looked interesting.”

Louis walked out of the living room then, which meant he almost ran into Liam. Liam couldn’t exactly hide, so he just stood there frozen like a deer in the headlights. They made eye contact, and Liam knew he’d been caught, but Louis didn’t say anything, just stared at him for a minute, then pushed past Liam and headed for his bedroom.

Liam went into the living room. Zayn was still standing there, staring into space.

“That’s not true.” Liam said quietly. “Louis always cared about me.”

Zayn turned, startled. Then he fixed Liam with a slightly pitying look. He opened his mouth to reply, but Liam stopped him.

“No. It’s true, Zayn. Louis cared, I always knew that. I just didn’t know if it was enough. He’s probably right though, it should have been.”

Zayn didn’t have anything to say to that, apparently, so Liam got his glass of water and went back to bed.

He’d broken it off with Louis for a lot of sensible reasons, but Louis not caring about him had never been one of them.

—

Liam had hoped that Zayn and Louis just needed to clear the air, but things were even worse between them the next morning. Although nobody else appeared to have overheard Louis and Zayn’s late night argument, nobody could miss the tension at breakfast, where the pair spent the whole meal trading icy glares and pointed comments. Nick and Harry did their best to tune it out and keep up a friendly conversation despite it all, but Niall looked extremely uncomfortable, and anything Liam said just seemed to make it worse.

“What was that about?” said Nick, after Louis and Zayn had both left the table, Zayn to sulk in his room, and Louis outside to kick a football repeatedly at the garden fence.

“Nothing,” Liam said, slightly distracted. “They’ve always been a bit like that. They’ll get over it.” Hopefully, Liam thought, as he took a last swig from his cup of tea. Then he realised that Nick was looking curious and Harry confused. Possibly he’d just indicated a much closer personal relationship between the three of them than any of them had so far admitted. “Ah – I’d better go check on Zayn,” he said, darting away from the breakfast table and avoiding further questions.

He did go and check on Zayn, despite his better judgement. Liam usually stuck to a strict policy of giving Zayn space when he was in a mood like this, but things were getting to be a bit much. It wasn’t fair on the others. Liam pushed the door open and peered round it. Zayn was lying on the bed, on top of the covers, arms crossed behind his head.

“Mind if I come in?” said Liam.

Zayn just shrugged. Liam figured that was as close as an invitation as he was going to get. He walked in and perched on the end of the bed.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “I think I made it sound like I was mad at you for sticking by me.”

“A bit,” said Zayn, noncommittal.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Hmmm.”

“I just. I never meant for you to stop being friends with Louis. I would never ask you to do that.”

Zayn finally stopped looking at the ceiling and turned to face Liam. “I know you wouldn’t Li,” he said. “But I was mad at him. You were a mess.”

“I was fine.”

Zayn just raised his eyebrows. “Well,” said Liam, “I wasn’t, but it was my fault. I was the one who called it off.”

“So you think I should have taken his side?”

“I don’t think you should have had to take sides at all.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not how things work.”

“So I broke up with him and then you just never talked to him again?” Liam felt a surge of sympathy for Louis, and a wave of guilt.

“Not exactly,” said Zayn.

“What happened?” 

Zayn sighed. “I’d been nagging him a bit, before you broke up. Because I knew you were stressed out and it didn’t seem like he was taking it seriously to me.”

Liam mulled over that. “He was. It just that he was trying to deal with in his own way I think. Trying to stay positive, and not let me get too wrapped up my own head. I was getting worked up over little things.” 

“If you say so,” said Zayn, like he didn’t really agree. “But I was annoyed and he was annoyed at me for not minding my own business and then you two broke up. And then… do you remember, sending me over there to get that last box of your stuff?”

“Yeah.” It was cowardly, Liam knew, but it was just too hard by that point to return to their flat, and see Louis, without crumbling and saying ‘I’ve made a terrible mistake, take me back’. He still felt a bit like that some days.

“Well, you know how he gets,” said Zayn. “He was spoiling for a fight. It’s not exactly like he could yell at you about everything.”

“He could,” said Liam. “Why not?”

“Because,” said Zayn. “You wouldn’t have yelled back. You would have just sat there, looking sad, and taken it all.”

“He wanted me to yell at him?”

“No,” said Zayn. “But he was mad, and he wanted someone to yell at, and blame. He wanted someone else to be awful so he could be awful back.”

“Oh,” said Liam. That made a twisted sort of sense, though Liam still didn’t understand why Louis couldn’t have directed it at him. “So you went over, and he was looking for a fight, and… you fought?” 

“Yeah,” said Zayn. He looked a little guilty. “I called him a waste of space and said you were better off without him and he accused me of persuading you to break up with him. And some other stuff I don’t remember but that was the main bit.”

“He wasn’t a waste of space,” said Liam. “And you didn’t make me break up with him.”

“I know. I told him that, I said that if he really thought you were that much of a puppet then what was he doing with you in the first place? Didn’t go down well. I hadn’t seen him since, not until last month.”

“Right,” said Liam. So Zayn and Louis had fought because of him, as he suspected. And then they’d said things they didn’t mean, like they always did when they fought, and without Liam to coax them back together, they’d never made up. “You need to stop arguing with him,” he said. “I get why you’re mad, but you’ve got to find a way to be civil.”

“I don’t see why.”                                                                                  

“Because you’re spoiling Harry’s holiday!” Liam said. “And it makes Niall anxious.”

Zayn pulled a face. “Louis starts it.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but Liam didn’t think arguing that point would help particularly. “I’ll talk to him too,” he said, determinedly. “I’ll sort it out.” He could fix this. He wasn’t having friendships ruined over him, that was ridiculous.

He seized his chance later that morning, when they all went for a walk down by the Cobb. Louis stopped to tie his shoe, and when the others kept walking Liam hung back.

“Hey,” Liam said.  Louis looked up from his foot, surprised.  “Sorry,” Liam continued, “I just wanted to say I overheard you and Zayn. Last night.  Arguing about me.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Not everything’s about you, Liam.”

“Of course,” said Liam. “But you should know it wasn’t his fault.  Me breaking it off with you.  He was just being a supportive friend. It was my decision.”

Louis finished with his shoelace and straightened up.  “Right,” he said, “Noted.  Was there anything else Liam? Or shall we join the group?”

Liam flushed. “Well, um, I also – I also just wanted to say that it wasn’t that I thought you didn’t care.  That wasn’t why I left. I never thought you didn’t care.”

“Okay,” said Louis, his face hard.  “That’s good, because I cared a lot. But if it wasn’t because you thought I didn’t care and it wasn’t because Zayn convinced you then I guess it really was that you didn’t think I was good enough for you.”

“What?” said Liam. “No! I was just trying to be sensible.  We were so young, Louis.”

“Oh right,” said Louis. “Of course, sensible Liam. You were just trying to protect our futures. Marrying me would have prevented you from your illustrious career recording other people’s music and discovering the next Rebecca Black.”  He started walking again, setting off towards the others.

“Well no,” Liam said, following him. “But you’ve done pretty well. You wouldn’t be nearly as successful now if we’d gotten married back then.”

Louis gave a harsh laugh. “I guess not.”

“See? I worry too much, I was holding you back. I knew that.”

Louis stopped abruptly. “ _Liam_ ,” he said, softly. “That’s not –”

But he was interrupted from whatever it was that he was going to say by the panicked sound of Niall’s voice crying “Harry!” and they looked up to see Harry lying crumpled on the ground ahead.

Liam raced towards him. The others were crowded around, looking panicked and helpless. Niall looked like he might be sick.  Nick was as white as a sheet. He was on the ground next to Harry, but he seemed at a loss as to what to do. Zayn was just staring, eyes wide, at Harry lying unconscious on the ground.

“Someone call an ambulance,” Liam commanded, crouching down next to Nick. “What happened?” he asked, as he grabbed Harry’s wrist and felt for a pulse.

“He fell,” said Niall. “Hit his head. Bloody idiot tripped over his own fucking feet again.”

Christ, thought Liam. They all joked about Harry being a hazard to himself, but this really took the cake. He left out a sigh of relief when he found Harry’s pulse, sure and steady.

“I think he’s alright,” he said. “He’s not dead, Nick.” Nick just let out a panicked sort of gulp, like a repressed sob. He was shaking. Zayn seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and he too knelt down, reaching out a tentative hand and placing it on Nick’s shoulder.

“There’s an ambulance on its way,” Louis said. He was looking a bit shaky himself, and he was standing awkwardly distant, a noticeable gap between him and the huddle on the ground, with a scared, slightly panicky expression on his face. It was weird, because Louis didn’t usually lose his head in a crisis, but right now he looked terrified.

Oh, Liam realised, suddenly. It had happened. Louis had properly fallen for Harry.

He told himself he didn’t have time to worry about that right now. He pushed Louis from his mind and tried to remember everything he could from the first aid course he’d done years ago. He took off his coat and laid it over Harry. “We’ve got to keep him warm,” he said, “or he’ll go into shock”.

“Should we move him?” said Niall. “We could carry him inside the pub or something, until the ambulance gets here.”

“No,” said Liam sharply. You didn’t move people with head injures, he remembered that much. He shivered without his coat.

When the ambulance turned up it was Nick who insisted on clambering in the back with Harry. Liam was surprised, but Louis didn’t protest. The rest of them followed in Liam’s car. Somehow, Louis ended up in the front with Liam.

He was still looking shaky, Liam noticed. He was drumming his fingers anxiously against his thigh, and Liam had a perverse urge to reach out and grab them, to take Louis’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey,” he said gently. ‘He’ll be ok.”

Louis didn’t say anything, just stared out the window, and Liam kept his hands firmly on the steering wheel.

When they arrived at the hospital they found Nick waiting alone, sitting in a row of uncomfortable plastic chairs.

“They took him off for some kind of scan. Can’t remember what the nurse said. He woke up for a bit, in the ambulance. He was pretty out of it though.” Nick looked wrung out, and out of his depth.

“That’s good news,” said Liam, encouragingly.

“Hmmm.” said Nick. Niall was chewing his nails. Zayn was huddled beside him. Louis hadn’t taken a seat, but instead leaned against the wall, staring into the distance. Nobody else said anything for a long while.

A doctor came out eventually. She looked tired, but she smiled at them. “He’s fine. Just a nasty knock to the head. We’re going to keep him for little bit longer, just for observation, but he’ll be alright. He’s sleeping now, you can go in and see him if you want. Maybe not all at once though, there’s not a lot of space.”

Niall looked relieved, and so did Zayn. Nick mostly looked bewildered. Louis gave a small, tight smile, but that was it.

Niall and Zayn went in first, but they didn’t stay long. “Bit weird just staring at him,” said Niall, looking uncomfortable.

Liam had to agree with Niall when he and Louis and Nick filed into Harry’s cubicle. It was weird. There were only two seats, so Liam let Nick and Louis take them, and hovered at the foot of Harry’s bed. Liam had visited people in hospital before, and he knew the drill. You sat in the chair by their bed and listened to them tell you about the terrible hospital food or what strange thing was wrong with the man in the next bed over. Sooner or later they got tired or someone else turned up to visit, and you left. But Harry wasn’t really able to play his part, it seemed, and Liam wasn’t quite sure what you were supposed to do if the person you had come to visit was unconscious. Make sure they weren’t alone when they woke up, he guessed. So he stood there, just staring at Harry, for what seemed like an age. Nobody spoke. Nick was looking shaky still, and pale. Louis was looking everywhere but Harry, and he kept fidgeting, squirming in his seat.

Eventually Nick spoke. “Maybe we should talk to him. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“He’s not in a coma,” said Louis.

“It couldn’t hurt though,” said Nick. Louis just looked sceptical. “Oh what would you know?” said Nick, sounding cross.

“My mum’s a nurse,” said Louis. He crossed his arms.

“Oh and being the son of a nurse makes you an expert in this sort of thing, does it?”

“Means I know more than you, at least. ‘Try talking to him’, honestly.”

Here we go, though Liam, as Nick and Louis began to bicker proper. Louis always used to pick fights when he was scared. It was a bit surreal, Liam felt, to know someone as well as he knew Louis, well enough that he felt could predict exactly what Louis would say next to wind Nick up, and yet there was this gulf between them. If it had been Liam who tripped and fell, Liam who hit his head and ended up in the hospital bed, would Louis even be here?

Liam wondered if he should try and stop the fighting, because it probably wasn’t appropriate to have an argument like that in the middle of a hospital room, where people were trying to get better.  But he didn’t think he could bear more sitting in silence. Nick seemed to have got some colour back in his cheeks too, just through sheer indignation. 

Liam was saved from having to make a decision by Harry stirring. Nick stopped in the middle of whatever insult he was directing at Louis and grabbed Harry’s hand. Harry’s eyes fluttered open. Liam couldn’t help but admire how prettily Harry managed to return to consciousness, like a princess being awakened from an enchanted slumber. He’d accuse Harry of doing it on purpose, but that was absurd.

“Nick,” he said, faintly.

“Harry!” said Nick.

“Nick,” Harry said again, stronger this time. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Nick, and Nick was staring just as intently back. It wasn’t what Liam had been expecting, especially not with Louis sitting on the other side of the bed. Had Harry not seen him?

“You idiot,” said Nick, sounding tearful. “You almost died.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Louis. Neither Nick nor Harry even glanced in his direction.

“Oh,” said Harry. “That would have been bad. I never told you I love you.”

“You don’t,” said Nick. “Don’t be daft.”

“I do though,” said Harry. Liam had no idea what was going on.

“You’ve been hit on the head,” said Nick, “You’re confused. I love you, but you don’t love me. You just sleep on my couch and steal all my food.”

“No,” said Harry. His voice was even slower than normal. “It’s the other way round. I love you but you just think I’m some kid.”

“Harry,” said Nick. He sounded frustrated. “I invited you on a romantic getaway to Lyme Regis and you bought all your friends.” 

“Oh,” said Harry.

“I think we better leave you to it,” said Liam, awkwardly. He and Louis headed back to the waiting room. Zayn and Niall weren’t there, they must have wandered off to find food. It was just Liam and Louis. Liam didn’t really know what to say. ‘Sorry the guy you like’s in love with someone else’? Liam didn’t think he could quite pull it off with sincerity. He risked a glance at Louis, but Louis just looked confused.

“Are you ok?” Liam asked, hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Louis said, sounding distracted. Then he looked at Liam. “Did Nick really use the phrase ‘romantic getaway to Lyme Regis’?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Liam said.

Louis burst into laughter. It startled Liam, but then he was laughing too, a nervous giggle that somehow turned into a gale of laughter. Louis was cackling, and Liam had to take great gulps of air to keep breathing, and the nurse at the desk was scowling at them. It felt like all the worry and fear of the last few hours was leaving Liam, like Louis had exorcised it somehow with his laughter. But then they saw Niall and Zayn heading back in their direction and the laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started. They went back to awkward silence.

Harry was discharged a few hours later, but nobody really felt like staying in Lyme much longer. They went back to the house, packed up their things, and drove back home. Liam didn’t see Louis again before he went home for Christmas, by which point it was too late. Louis had finished filming. He wasn’t coming back to Bath.

Liam thought he’d feel relieved when Louis left. He didn’t. 

—

Christmas for Liam meant going back to Wolverhampton. He headed up the day before Christmas Eve, sandwiched in the backseat of his sister’s car, a sticky nephew on either side clamouring for his attention, while Ruth and Charles bickered in the front.

“Uncle Liam, let’s play I spy!”

“When we get back Charles we really ought to start on redoing the kitchen. Liam’ll help, won’t you Liam? I’ve picked out a lovely lemon colour. Of course Charles’ mother won’t leave well alone, keeps trying to convince me it should be orange. That woman’s got such terrible taste.”

“Hey now, let’s not start in on me mum.”

“It’s hideous. Liam, tell him it’s hideous.”

“Uncle Liam, do you think Santa will get me my own batmobile?

“You’re in the wrong lane Charles! Liam, tell Charles he’s in the wrong lane!”

“Uncle Liam I’m boooorrrreeeddd.”

Liam had a headache by the time they were halfway there. Their arrival in Wolverhampton granted Liam a brief respite, while Liam’s mum fussed over her grandsons and Liam’s dad talked with Charles about the game last weekend, and Ruth managed to get into an argument with Nicola, their older sister, about who was sleeping where, and nobody was interested in Liam. But once Liam’s mum had put the kettle on and they were all sat round the kitchen table with a cup of tea, everyone rounded on Liam.

“How’s work?” Liam’s father wanted to know. “Still not doing anything useful?” Liam gritted his teeth. Growing up, his dad had always thought Liam’s music lessons were a waste of money. The fact that Liam was now 25 and not yet a famous musician, was, in his eyes, vindication.

“I’m sure he’s doing his best,” said Liam’s mum. She didn’t sound like she particularly meant it. It was her who had insisted the music lessons would lead to fame and fortune, and Liam knew she thought he’d let her down by remaining obscure and badly paid. “What about your love life Liam, love? Have you met any nice girls?”

Liam’s mum knew he was gay. Liam had come out to his parents when he was 16. He hadn’t had particularly high hopes for their reaction, couldn’t exactly see them overflowing with support, not if the comments his dad made when Nicola had Project Runway on were anything to go by, but, well, his secret crush on Jack Stewart in the upper sixth didn’t seem to be going anywhere. He had to do it eventually. When he told them his dad had just snorted and said, “Tell us something we don’t know,” and gone back to watching the snooker on the telly. His mum had just pretended she hadn’t heard him, and had gone on pretending ever since. She wasn’t homophobic, not really. It was just that Liam being gay didn’t fit with the life she planned for him – money, success, a wife, a house in the suburbs, kids. They were actually pretty similar to the things Liam wanted for himself, but that made it worse somehow, that she didn’t think he could have all that and be who he was.

“Well,” said Liam. He didn’t like to complain, because Liam knew there were plenty of gay kids out there with truly awful parents, but he was tired of this conversation.

“Liam’s seeing that guy again,” piped up Ruth. “Whatshisname. Louis.”

Liam flushed. “No I’m not.”

“What guy?” said Nicola.

“You know, the one he brought back here. The one he got engaged too.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Liam’s mum. “They weren’t engaged.” Back when Liam had he told her he’d thought that it might be the thing that finally convinced her he wasn’t straight, but she’d just laughed like he was joking. He hadn’t put much effort into correcting her at the time, because he figured they’d be married soon enough, and she couldn’t deny that. Of course, that hadn’t happened.

“That oik from up North?” Liam’s dad hadn’t liked Louis much either. Louis had tried his best at first to be polite to Liam’s family but, met with their complete lack of welcome, had rapidly progressed to making the kinds of snarky comments that left Liam’s dad aware he was being made fun of but unsure as to exactly how.

“He’s an actor now,” said Ruth.

“An actor? Well la-dee-da,” said Liam’s dad. “He been in anything I would have seen?”

“I doubt it,” said Liam.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Liam’s dad asked.

“He’s in some new historical thing,” said Ruth, ignoring them. “Gonna be on the telly.”

“Oh,” said Liam’s mum. Liam could tell she was impressed by that. She did love her period dramas.

“If he’s doing so well for himself then why would he want to date Liam?” Nicola asked.

“He doesn’t,” said Liam. “He’s not an oik, and we were engaged, but we’re not together now.”

“Oh well,” said Liam’s mum. “I’m glad you’ve reconnected with an old friend. That must be nice.” Then she started talking about the Dalrymple’s Christmas Party.

Jane Dalrymple was Liam's dad's cousin who'd married a posh barrister and conveniently forgotten her dad had worked in a factory just like Liam's. Every year she threw a party on the 23rd and every year Liam's mum made them all dress up and go along. Liam was pretty sure they were only invited because Jane knew they'd be suitably awed by whatever marble counter or fancy carpet she'd had installed this year, but his mum always treated it like some great honour. Liam had hoped he could get out of it this year by offering to babysit, but no such luck.

“Nah, the boys’ll come with us,” Ruth said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea Ruth?” Liam’s mum sounded nervous. Liam thought it was fair enough. He loved his nephews but they had a tendency to get a bit raucous when they were bored. And if Liam, at twenty-five, was bored to tears at the thought of the Dalrymples’ Christmas party, then a five year old and a three year old were unlikely to be much more entertained. God knows what havoc they might cause.

“Yes,” said Ruth, indignant. “Clara Dalrymple’s boy’s a year younger than Charlie and he was at there last year. It’s a family thing!”

“Yeah but he’s not a little shit who breaks everything he touches,” said Nicola. “Leave them with Liam, it’s not like he needs to be there.”

Nicola, who didn’t have any children to wrangle, never really thought Liam’s presence necessary. On this occasion Liam happened to agree. Ruth, however, was staring daggers, so Liam’s mum tried a slightly more tactful approach.

“Darling, don’t you think they’re a bit tired from the journey up?” she said, desperately trying to avoid disaster. “Don’t you think they’d be happier at home with Liam?”

“Your mum’s probably got a point love,” said Charles. “They have been a bit grizzly this afternoon.”

“They’ll be _fine_ ,” Ruth said.

They weren’t, of course. Charlie somehow managed to knock over and smash one of the Dalrymples’ expensive champagne flutes before they’d been there ten minutes. Liam’s mother was mortified. Ruth was unapologetic. Liam skulked off with his own champagne flute to find a quiet corner where he could loosen the tie his mother had made him wear and avoid interacting with his family.

Liam had long known his family were far from perfect, but this year he was finding them even harder to deal with than normal. He couldn’t help thinking about what Louis had said, that night in his flat: ‘Still letting your family walk all over you?' He’d been right, was the thing. Twenty-five years old and here Liam was, in an outfit picked out by his mum, at a party he didn’t want to be at. He took a big gulp of champagne, and then coughed, because he remembered he didn’t actually like champagne much.

Liam was starting to feel quite sorry for himself, and he didn’t like it. He gave himself a shake and went to talk to Sarah Dalrymple instead of hiding in the corner like a sulky teenager. Sarah was Liam’s age, the youngest of the Dalrymple girls and by far the nicest. She was recently engaged to a nice Frenchman she’d met while studying abroad. Liam had been happy for her when he’d heard, because he actually liked Sarah, but he’d also been pleased it had finally forced his mum to stop pointing out to him what a nice young girl she was.

“Liam!” she said, sounding genuinely pleased to see him, which was a nice change.

“Hey Sarah,” he said, trying to sound a bit more cheerful than he felt. “Congratulations!”

“Oh thanks Liam,” she said. “Poor Claude’s around here somewhere, I’ll have to introduce you later. He’s coping admirably so far with his first Dalrymple family Christmas, but it’d be nice for him to meet a relative who’s actually, you know, normal.”  She stood and chatted to Liam for a bit, filling him in on her wedding plans while Liam nodded along politely.

“I’m sorry, Liam, I must be boring you to death!” she said, after a slightly long story about the trials of dress shopping with her sisters. “How have you been? Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nah,” Liam said, easily. He doubted it would be the first time he’d have to answer that one tonight. “Haven’t really got the time,” he lied.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said Sarah. “Whatever happened to that guy you were with, years ago? The one you brought here that time.”

Liam almost choked on his champagne again. “We broke up,” he said, with a cough.  

“Shame,” Sarah said. “I liked him.” Then she spotted someone over Liam’s shoulder. “Oh there’s Cindy,” she said. “Sorry Liam, I better go say hi. But we’ll chat some more later, yeah? I’ll introduce you to Claude.” And then she darted off.

The bloke Liam had bought to the party that time, the only bloke Liam had ever brought home to Wolverhampton, let alone to the Dalrymples’ Christmas party, was of course, Louis. He’d been an absolute terror that night. He’d refused to wear a tie, and he’d been utterly unimpressed by all the Dalrymples’ posh guests and every time Liam’s mum had introduced him as “Liam’s friend Louis,” he’d corrected her. “Boyfriend, actually,” he’d said, grinning unapologetically with every handshake. Liam’s mum had been annoyed and embarrassed but Liam had just felt so proud. It felt like he had someone on his side for once. Up until then, Liam had been just as taken in by the Dalrymples’ affectations of superiority as his mother was, but Louis took one look around their fancy house and rolled his eyes. “This place is awful, Liam,” he’d said. “Everything’s beige and none of the chairs look comfy.” Louis refused to feel less than anyone else, and he made Liam think he could do the same.

When Liam’s mother had inevitably tried to push him in the direction of Sarah, Louis had simply followed.

“Are you the cousin Liam’s mum’s always trying to set him up with?” Louis asked her, sidling up to Liam and putting a possessive hand on his waist. “It’s a bit weird don’t you think? Especially seeing as Liam’s into blokes.”

Liam had felt a bit embarrassed at that. “Second cousin,” he corrected, blushing, but he put his own arm around Louis’s shoulder. “Sarah, this is Louis.”

Sarah had just laughed. “It’s very weird,” she said. “But Aunty Karen’s got a few funny ideas. Are you the boyfriend?”

“Yes,” said Louis, with a challenging tone.

“Don’t be like that,” Liam said, giving Louis’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Sarah’s got even less romantic interest in me then I do in her. Last I heard she was going out with the school football captain, she’s way out of my league.”

“Nobody’s out of your league,” Louis had said, but he’d warmed up to Sarah quick enough. Together the three of them had found a quiet spot away from everyone else at the party and gotten pleasantly tipsy off Sarah’s dad’s best wine. When Sarah’s mum had found them, Sarah and Louis had both been smoking out the window. She’d been furious. She’d looked at Liam and Louis like they were monsters sent specifically to lead her daughter astray.

Louis didn’t apologise, nor did he get defensive and tell Jane Dalrymple that the cigarettes were Sarah’s, which was the truth. He’d just smiled serenely at her and said, “Think it might be time for us to go, Liam. Lovely meeting you Jane, Sarah.” Then he’d tugged on Liam’s hand and pulled him out the door.

It was cold outside, and they didn’t really have anywhere to go, and Liam knew his mum was going to be furious, but instead of feeling embarrassed and worried, Liam found himself laughing at the sour look on Jane Dalrymple’s face. 

“God,” he said, taking great gulps of cold December air and leaning on Louis for support. “I love you.”

“I know,” said Louis fondly. “C’mon, I’m starving. Can’t believe you took me to a party with such shit nibbles.” He led Liam down the street, and they’d wandered around aimlessly until they’d somehow escaped the labyrinth of the Dalrymples’ posh suburb and made their way back to a high street. They’d rung in Louis’s twentieth birthday in a near-empty Mcdonalds. Louis had nicked half Liam’s chicken nuggets, and when Liam had kissed him he’d tasted like sweet and sour sauce and salt.

It would be nice, Liam thought, as he took another sip of champagne and tried not to wince, to feel that way again. Like there was someone on his side, looking out for him. Someone who wanted him around.

Charlie came running up to him then. “Uncle Liam!” he said. “Someone gave Walter Ribena and he spilt it all over the carpet. There’s a big pink spot!”

Well, that was pretty much guaranteed to happen if you gave a three year old Ribena around this much beige, Liam thought. “C’mon Charlie,” he said, taking Charlie’s hand, “I think I better take you and your brother home. Save your Gran a heart attack.”

Liam spent the rest of his Christmas break playing with his nephews and trying to avoid getting dragged into his family’s various disagreements. He did catch himself occasionally wondering how Louis was spending his Christmas, and how they would be spending their Christmas if they had actually got married, and whether Louis’s laughter at the hospital meant that he wasn’t into Harry at all, or whether it was just a coping mechanism. He indulged himself for a little while, because it was Christmas, and not thinking about Louis at Christmas was a nearly impossible task (“it’s like the world lights up just for me, Liam!), but when he caught himself thinking about whether, in the alternative universe in which they had actually gotten married, they’d have kids by now, and what that Christmas would be like, he decided enough was probably enough, and he willingly sought out Ruth in the hope that her long list of The Ways She Had Recently Been Wronged would push the image of Louis sleepily watching over a small child unpacking a Christmas stocking right out of his mind.

It didn’t, quite, but Christmas was over soon enough. Liam returned to Bath on Boxing Day. His sisters were staying longer, but nobody apart from Charlie looked particularly upset when Liam said he had to get back ‘for work’.

Zayn was still in Bradford, and Niall was in Ireland, but Nick and Harry were back, after having spent Christmas together with Harry’s family. Liam was surprised they did that so soon in their relationship, but then it turned out that this wasn’t even the first Christmas they’d spent together, so Liam just accepted that there’d been more going on between them than he realised for quite some time.

Liam was happy for them, but he couldn’t help wondering about Harry and Louis. He eventually cracked one day and asked Harry about it.

“What about Louis?”

“What about Louis?” Harry parroted back.

“Well,” Liam said, feeling embarrassed and transparent. “You guys were pretty close there for a while…” He trailed off, hoping the rest would be implied.

Harry just let out a guffaw of laughter. “Liam!” he said. “You didn’t think?”

“I don’t think I was the only one,” Liam said, feeling sheepish.

“Oh,” said Harry. He looked thoughtful. “Louis and me, we’re like…” He sort of gestured vaguely with his hands. “You know?”

Liam didn’t know. He waited patiently for Harry to elaborate.

“Like, we’re friends. Really good friends. And he’s hot, obviously. So there may have been some flirting. But it didn’t mean anything.”

“It didn’t?” Liam asked dubiously.

“Nah,” said Harry. “Nick, he’s my lobster, you know?” He was beaming.

“Alright,” said Liam, “far be it from me question crustacean love.”

One by one, Liam’s friends trickled back from their Christmas breaks. By the first week in January things were pretty much back to the way they had been before Louis had exploded back into Liam’s life, except with more Harry and Nick making out. It left Liam feeling oddly restless, this sudden return to normalcy. He’d gotten used to his heart speeding up every time he was forced to share a room with Louis, and now his life, which only three months ago had made him perfectly content, suddenly seemed dull and uneventful.

Except it turned out that Liam needn’t have worried quite so much about readjusting to Louis’s absence. Liam was on his lunch break one day, just popped into the bakery round the corner for a sausage roll, when he spotted Louis heading towards him across the street. He stopped dead in his tracks.

That turned out to be a mistake, because it immediately drew Louis’s attention to him. Liam half expected Louis to pretend he didn’t see Liam, but instead he waved, and, to Liam’s great surprise, actually crossed the road to talk to Liam.

“Liam, hey,” Louis said, like they were friendly acquaintances, not horribly painful exes; like he was somehow actually pleased to see Liam.

“Hi,” said Liam, startled. “What are you doing here?” He cringed, because that came out a little rude. “I mean, I thought you’d finished filming,” he corrected hastily.

“Well, yeah,” Louis was looking slightly sheepish. “But there’s a few scenes that needed reshooting. So I’m back.”

“Oh,” said Liam. He didn’t really know what to say. “That’s nice.” Was it? Liam wasn’t sure. He hadn’t seen Louis since that day in Lyme, but he’d thought about him a lot.

“I guess,” said Louis. “Hey, I gotta run, but it’s good seeing you. Might see you at the pub Friday, eh?” And then he was gone. Liam just blinked after him, baffled. ‘It’s good seeing you’? What did that mean?

Louis was at the pub on Friday night. He seemed completely unperturbed by Nick and Harry snogging in the corner, and when Liam finished his drink Louis turned up at his side with another one, and then said, like them having a conversation was entirely normal: “How’s it going Payno? Haven’t really seen you since we were in Lyme.” Liam had stuttered a bit and almost choked on his beer, but he managed to give a reasonably coherent answer. They stumbled through a conversation about the weather and their respective Christmas holidays. It wasn’t deep or meaningful, but Louis seemed determined to barrel through any awkwardness, and it was the closest thing they’d had to a friendly chat in years.

Once Louis had finished telling Liam all about the snow in Doncaster he wandered off again to challenge Niall to a game of pool, leaving Liam feeling deeply confused. It felt like when Louis had first decided to be friends with Liam but Liam hadn’t quite caught on, except this time he didn’t think that Louis was making fun of him. It was clear Louis was making an effort. He just wished he knew why.

Liam could tell Louis was making an effort, but that didn’t mean he was prepared for Louis to just turn up at his flat the next day.

“Hello,” said Louis, when Liam opened the door. “I was just passing by, thought I’d pop in.” When Liam just blinked at him, he added: “I brought jaffa cakes.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” said Liam, feeling mildly unhinged. He let Louis in.

He put the kettle on. Louis didn’t explain why he was here, just stood in Liam’s kitchen and made the same determined small talk he had the night before. Liam was not feeling any less confused than he had been then, but he could tell Louis was nervous about something. He prattled on about the Doncaster Rovers’ progress this season at quite a pace, leaving few opportunities for Liam to contribute even if Liam had watched a single game.

Once Louis’s tea was ready, Liam added a dollop of milk and passed it over. “Oh,” said Louis, finally halting his comparison of two football players Liam had never heard of to pull a packet of jaffa cakes out of his jacket pocket. They were only slightly squashed.

“You hate jaffa cakes,” said Liam, taking one. “You can’t dunk them without ending up with soggy bits floating in your tea.”

Louis pulled a slightly disgusted face. “Utterly useless biscuits,” he agreed. “No structural integrity. But you always liked them.”

“True,” said Liam. He took another one. Then he added another spoonful of sugar to his own tea, just to see if Louis would comment. He’d already put in three. Louis’s face looked pained, but he didn’t say anything. He was clearly on his best behaviour.

“Is Zayn seeing anyone at the moment?” Louis asked, apparently choosing to distract himself from Liam’s tea transgressions by peering at a picture of Zayn and Liam on Liam’s fridge. It was from their uni days, and Liam was pretty sure Louis had taken it, but neither of them pointed that out.

“Don’t think so,” Liam said.

“Oh good. I know this girl I reckon he’d get on really well with, was thinking of setting them up.”

“Ha,” said Liam. “Good luck with that.” Getting Zayn to do something he didn’t want to do was pretty difficult, and going on a date with a girl he didn’t know was not likely to be something Zayn wanted to do. Also, as far as he was aware, Louis hadn’t actually talked to Zayn since their fight in Lyme Regis.

“Well, I’d need you help,” Louis conceded. “But I think they’d really like each other.” Then he paused for a minute. “What about you?” he asked, hesitantly.

“What about me?” Liam said.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Oh.” Liam said. “Nah.” Liam had pretty much given up on dating.

“Harry said there was a guy you were seeing, for a bit.”

“Who, Jamie? That was ages ago.”

“What happened?”

“Just didn’t work out.”

“Why, because Zayn didn’t like him?” Louis pushed, with a bitter edge to his voice that Liam didn’t like.

“No. I mean, that didn’t help. But really we just didn’t click.”

“What was he like?”

“He was an accountant. Very steady, very sensible. He used to take me on dinner dates to nice Italian restaurants.  He always knew the right kind of wine to order.”

“Sounds perfect for you.”

Liam shrugged. “I couldn’t tell the difference between the wine he ordered and what you can get on offer at tescos. Harry tried to teach me, got all excited and held a wine tasting in his flat. ‘Cept he couldn’t get Niall and Zayn to take it seriously, they wouldn’t stop taking the piss. And of course they wouldn’t let us spit any of it out, like you’re supposed to. Said it was a waste. So we all just ended up off our faces, laughing hysterically while Niall did his best impression of a serious wine taster. Worst hangover I’ve ever had. And I realised I’d had more fun preparing for my date with Jamie than actually on any of the dates. So I ended it.”

Louis still didn’t look convinced.  “He didn’t make me laugh,” said Liam, simply. “And he never laughed at me either.”

“I used to do both those things. All the time.  And you dumped me ‘cos I didn’t have a proper job.”

“I know,” said Liam.

There was a silence. Then:

“Sorry,” Louis said. “I didn’t come here to dredge up the past. The jaffa cakes were supposed to be a peace offering. So was the beer last night, if you couldn’t tell.”

Liam could tell, but he still didn’t know why. “What for?”

“I want us to be friends again,” Louis said. “I want to be friends again, but then, it turns out I’m still a bit messed up about all that.” He gestured vaguely, and Liam assumed he was supposed to interpret ‘all that’ as their two year relationship and its unfortunate breakdown. “I can’t help thinking about what you said in Lyme,” Louis continued. “About not wanting to hold me back. Did you mean that?”

“Well, yeah,” said Liam.

“I don’t understand. I thought I did, I thought I knew that you left me because your family thought I wasn’t good enough for you and then I dropped out of uni and couldn’t hold down a job and you decided they were right.”

“Louis,” Liam said. He felt sick. “That wasn’t it.  That was never it. It was… it was a lot of things, but not that. I never felt anything but lucky to have you.”

“I think you need to explain,” said Louis. “Because I’m confused. I don’t understand. If you felt that way, why did you leave me?”

Liam thought for a bit, trying to sort it all out in his head.  He’d clearly fucked it up when he’d tried to explain back then, if Louis had thought the things he had, and he didn’t want that to happen again. “It was like… you dropped out of uni, and you had all these big dreams. You were so sure you were going to make it.  And I was so scared. It fucking terrified me. I worked so hard to get into uni, so I could have a future that wasn’t working in the same factory as my Dad, and here you were just throwing that opportunity away. That wasn’t what you were supposed to do, you know? Not you specifically, just people in general. You were supposed to go to university, and get a degree, and then get a job. Maybe after uni you could take some risks, chase your dreams, but you needed to do that bit first, so you’d have something to fall back on. That’s what I’d always thought. And here you were, just going ‘fuck it, uni’s a waste of time, I’m going to go after what I really want.’”

“Well, I wasn’t very good at it. I was barely passing. It was a waste of time.”

“Maybe,” said Liam. He’d always thought Louis was far smarter than he was, never really understood why he didn’t get better grades. If only he’d just knuckle down – but they’d had that fight, plenty of times, and it wasn’t really the problem. The problem was the next bit, what happened after Louis left uni. “But I couldn’t help being scared. And so I kept nagging you, trying to get you to get a real job, to figure out a back-up plan. Trying to get you to settle for something less exciting, and more secure.”

“I got that job at the toy store. I thought that would make you happy.”

“It did, for a bit. But it made you miserable, and you stopped going to auditions. And that’s when I realised I was holding you back. You got that job, and you put your dreams on hold, because I was scared. So I left, because if you were going to get what you wanted out of life you needed someone who was fearless, as fearless as you.”

“Oh Liam,” Louis said. He sounded distraught. “You’ve got it wrong. I’m not fearless. I never would have done all that if I hadn’t met you. You thought I was funny and smart and you thought I was worth something. When you agreed to marry me it made me feel like I could do anything. Nobody had ever believed in me like you did. That’s why it hurt so much when you stopped.”

“I never did,” said Liam. He was trying really hard not to cry. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I always thought you’d be alright without me.”

Louis just shook his head sadly. “I was right though,” Liam said, a little thickly. “Look at how well you’ve done. You couldn’t have done any of that if you’d stayed with me, you said so yourself.”

Louis snorted a little at that. “I guess,” he said. “But only because I’m so stubborn. I thought you’d decided you were too good for me, so I became determined to prove you wrong. My entire acting career’s just to spite you.”

“Don’t be silly.” Liam said.

“Well, maybe not entirely. I like it, obviously. And it makes my mum proud. It’s nice to be able to help her and the girls out a bit. But you were definitely a key motivator at the beginning. And even now, sometimes, when I get a good review, I think about posting it to your mum. Her and my year eleven geography teacher.”

Liam felt a rush of rage at that. “Forget about the rubbish my mum said. She didn’t know what she was talking about. You never needed to prove her wrong.”

“Maybe,” said Louis.                                                                                        

“Yes,” said Liam. It was important that Louis understood this. “I’m sorry that I made you doubt that. I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t believe in you.”  Liam had never even thought about that. The idea that Liam was capable of thinking Louis was anything other than the best thing that ever happened to him was completely alien, but Liam could see now how Louis might have reached that conclusion.

Louis pulled a face. “It’s all right.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Well, no. It was a bit shit, actually.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve said. Stop apologising. It’s okay now, mostly. Like you said, I’ve done alright for myself. And I’m starting to think Zayn was right, a bit. Sounds like you were much more worried about things than I realised. I should have noticed.”

Liam shrugged. He was still feeling a bit watery eyed.

“Oh Liam,” Louis said. “Come here.” He pulled Liam in for a hug.  Liam froze, overwhelmed, until he realised that Louis was interpreting his rigidity as rejection and was pulling away. Liam clung on tight then.

“Does this mean we’re friends again?” said Liam, after a minute.

“Yeah, I reckon so Payno,” Louis said, with a smile. “Best friends forever.” 

Liam gave a small, tentative smile of his own. When Liam had first become friends with Louis, when he had figured out that Louis’s pushing and prodding and teasing was Louis’s way of saying he wanted Liam to notice him, that Louis wanted to laugh with Liam not at him; well. It had felt like Liam's life had exploded into technicolor. A whole new world of being included in Louis’s antics, of being on the right side of his jokes. Liam had got drunk for the first time, truly spectacularly drunk, and sung Bonnie Tyler songs at a karaoke bar in town. They'd pranked Zayn so many times Zayn had threatened to switch to a different university just to get away from them. All of Liam's possessions ended up covered in silly string. And the one time someone had called Liam a loser Louis had been furious, had yelled, “you wanna go mate?” which actually, was pretty stupid, because Louis was tiny, and then Liam had had to step in, and it ended up being the first time (of many) that Louis’s propensity to mouth off almost got Liam into a bar fight, but it had been great, because Louis had been standing up for _him._

It had been amazing, and Liam hadn't even dared imagine he could ask for more. He'd certainly never expected Louis to lean in one day, a determined look on his face, and kiss him. He’d been surprised when that had happened, too stunned, in fact, to really kiss back, and Louis had pulled away.

“Are you messing around?” Liam had said, confused, and worried, because he wanted to be open to Louis’s jokes, but he didn’t know if this was a teasing he could cope with. 

“Nope,” said Louis, defiant, challenging, nervous.

“You really like me like that?”

“Yes, Liam, I really like you like that,” Louis had said, exasperated now.

“Oh,” said Liam, a grin breaking on his face, and he’d leaned in for another kiss.

It had been great. A lifetime highlight, he’d suspected at the time. But he’d never expected it, is the thing. Liam had been happy just being Louis's friend back then, and he could settle for it now.

—

After that, Liam and Louis were friends. Not particularly close ones, admittedly, not yet. There weren’t any more tête-à-têtes in Liam’s kitchen. But things were less awkward than they had been. They made an effort to talk to each other, rather than avoid each other, at group events. Louis began to gently tease Liam again.

But while Liam and Louis’s relationship slowly repaired itself, Nick and Harry’s blossoming romance suddenly went tits up.

“I’ve been dumped,” said Harry, when he called Liam. “C’mon, we’re getting shitfaced.” He sounded relatively cheerful about it.

“It’s Tuesday,” said Liam.

“Liam,” said Harry, sulky. “I’ve been _dumped_. It’s my birthday on Monday, which means I’ve been dumped in my birthday week.”

“That just means you’re going to make me go out on a Monday next week. Is drinking on a Tuesday afternoon really going to make you feel better?”

“Yes,” said Harry.  Liam gave in. He suspected whiny baby Harry was a cover for genuinely sad Harry. Nick the most serious Liam had ever seen Harry be about anybody, and besides, he didn’t think anyone had ever actually broken up with Harry before.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll be there after work.”

“Can’t you come now?” Not really working meant that Harry tended to mostly view other people’s jobs as a kind of peculiar inconvenience.

“I’ve got another couple of hours here,” Liam said. “But I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

By the time he got to the pub Harry was already pissed.

“Liam!” he roared, flinging his arms out with a force that threatened to topple him off his barstool. Then he hiccupped. “Louis bought me shots.”

Louis was sitting next to him. He didn’t look quite as gone as Harry, but he wasn’t exactly sober.  “He was sad,” he said, with a guilty look at Liam.

“I’m not anymore!”

“That’s good,” said Liam. “What happened though? I thought Nick was your lobster.”

“So did I,” said Harry, pulling a glum expression. “I dunno. We got in a fight. He said I was flirting with the waitress at dinner. I wasn’t! I was just being friendly. She thought my gurnard joke was funny.”

“To be fair,” interjected Louis, “your gurnard joke is definitely not funny.”

Harry pouted. “That’s what he said. So then we fought about that. And then he said ‘You’re just going to leave me anyway, so what’s the point?’ and then he chucked me.”

“Oh mate,” said Liam sympathetically. “That’s shit.”

“Yeah,” said Harry. He sounded sad now. “It is.”

“More drinks!” said Louis. “I’ll get us a round. What’ll you have?”

“I want a fruity cocktail with an umbrella,” Harry said, decisively.

“Does the Crown do fruity cocktails with umbrellas?” Liam wondered.

“They will today,” Louis said. “Payno?”

“Just a pint thanks.”

Louis headed off for the bar. Harry cuddled into Liam. “I’m sad, Liam.”

“I know,” said Liam, wrapping an arm around him. “It sucks.”

“I don’t understand. I thought we were happy.”

“Yeah, I thought you were too.”

“Then why?”

“I dunno mate. I’m the wrong person to ask. Sounds like he panicked a bit.”

“I love him. I’ve never loved anybody before. It’s kinda shit.”

Liam laughed at that. “Yeah, it can be.”

“Have you ever been in love Liam?”

“Yep. It was great, until it wasn’t any more.”

“How did you get over it?”

“Oh,” Liam rubbed his neck, embarrassed “I didn’t, really.”

Harry frowned at him. “Never?”

“Nope,” said Liam, with a weak chuckle.

“You’re just… still in love with them?” Harry looked horrified.

“I guess so,” said Liam. It was a lie. He knew so. “Think I probably always will be.”

There was a crash from behind them. Liam turned his head and saw Louis staring straight at him, standing in a puddle of broken glass. There was a tiny orange umbrella by his foot.

“Louis!” said Harry, confused. “The drinks are on the floor!”                                 

“Sorry,” said Louis, not taking his eyes off Liam. “They slipped.”

Liam squirmed. He had no doubt that Louis had heard him. There was a horrible endless moment, in which Liam stared at Louis and Louis stared at Liam and neither of them moved or spoke. It was interrupted by the barmaid bustling over with the dustpan. Louis had to stop staring at Liam to make profuse apologies and clumsily try to help clean up, and Liam used the distraction to make his getaway.

“Sorry Haz, I gotta go,” he said, and ran out the bar and all the way home.

 Fuck.

—

Liam arrived at work the next day feeling very bleary-eyed. It felt like he’d been up all night trying to decipher the look on Louis’s face. He had been shocked, that much was obvious. But late at night, starting at his ceiling, it had seemed highly probable to Liam that his face had also contained disgust, and anger. Surely Louis must feel repulsed by Liam’s patheticness, and betrayed by Liam’s promise of friendship when he so clearly wanted more, or so Liam imagined. So it was a slightly sleep-deprived Liam that arrived at the studio the next morning.

He made a pot of coffee for him and his boss, Clive, and booted up his computer. He had an email from Louis Tomlinson. It was sent to his work email, the one listed on the company website, and it had the subject line ‘love declsration’. Liam squinted at it nervously, certain it must contain the negative sentiments he’d spent all night dreaming up. He opened it. It didn’t. 

 

Dear Liaam

You said Harry you still loved me is it true I need to know! I still love you eventhough you are an idiot. I thought I didn’t but I think I was just mad. I’ve never loved any one but you and you’re the only reason I’m still in ducking Bath and I like your eyes. If you just want tobe friends thats okk because I sent Haz for mroe shots so I won’t remember sending this anyway but I’d rather you married me.

[koala emoji] [crown emoji] [upwards graph emoji]

Loussis

 

Liam stared at his computer screen, baffled. He read the email through three times. Then he laughed. He reached for his phone, but then he realised he didn’t actually have Louis’s number. They hadn’t quite reached that point in the friendship rebuilding. He called Harry instead.

Harry answered with a whine. “Whyyyyy are you awaaaake?”

“Well,” said Liam. “I have a job?” 

“Then why are you calling me?”

“I need to talk to Lou, do you have his number?”

“Ooh, I think he’s on my couch. Hang on.” There was a groan, which presumably signalled Harry becoming vertical, then footsteps, then more groaning.

“Louis, wake the fuck up, Liam wants to talk to you.”

“Tell him I’m sleeping.”

“Then I don’t get to sleep.”

“Gah.” That was Louis, into the receiver.

“Morning Lou,” Liam said, cheerfully.

“Guuuhgh,”

“C’mon, Tommo, wake up.”

“I'm only not hanging up on you because the phone is too far away from my hands.”

“Loooouuuuu”

“What do you want?”

“How much of last night do you remember?”

“Not very much.” There was pause, then: “You left. You ran away.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Is that why you’re calling at the arsecrack of dawn?”

“It’s half nine.”

“Liam.”

“It’s a Wednesday.”

“ _Liam._ ” Louis was whining now.

“You sent me an email. After I left. After you’d had a bit more to drink, I reckon. Do you remember?”

“No.” Louis sounded wary.

“Oh. Well. I got it this morning. It was a really nice email. You should probably take a look.”

“My phone’s dead, I’m pretty sure. Just tell me what it says.”

Liam read the email aloud.

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” said Louis, when he’d finished.

“I dunno,” said Liam. “Definitely in my top five marriage proposals.”

“Oh god.”

“Top two maybe. I like that it’s written down so I’ll always have the memory. If I go old and senile and forget who I am you can just read me the email every day, like that bloke in the Notebook.”

“Hang on,” said Louis. “Does this–” he sounded hesitant. “Is this you saying yes?”

“Of course,” Liam said. “I love you. Always have, probably always will.”

“Oh. Same.”

“Well that’s settled then,” Liam said. “We can have a June wedding.”

Louis laughed. Liam felt like he was floating.

“Where are you?” Louis said. “Why aren’t you here?”

“I’m at work.”

“Ugh,” said Louis. “Sensible bloody Liam.” This time when he called Liam sensible it sounded fond, like it used to, not angry, like it had in Lyme.

“Yes, well,” said Liam with a quick glance around the office to check his boss hadn’t slunk in. “I’m actually predicting a massive migraine to develop just before lunch that will sadly force me to take the afternoon off.”

“Liam Payne!” Louis cackled. “Skiving off! You bad boy.” Then there was a pause. “Hang on, why can’t your migraine kick in now?”

“Because I do actually have work to do. Also you should probably sleep your hangover off a bit.”

“Be better if you were here to cuddle and bring me tea,” Louis grumbled.

“Yeah yeah,” said Liam. “We’ve got forever for that.” He felt a thrill at the thought. “Meet me in the park by Royal Crescent. ‘Bout one.”

“Alright,” said Louis. He sounded sleepy, and soft, and like everything that had been missing from Liam’s life for the last five years. He wished he could go slip in beside him for a cuddle, listen to Louis whine about his headache and demand Liam fetch cups of tea, but the girl they had booked in this morning was a right prima donna, and it wouldn’t be fair to leave Clive on his own with her.

—

The girl recording that morning threw a hissy fit when they told her she’d run of time, and by the time she’d finally left Liam was worried he was going to be late to meet Louis. His pretending to be sick probably wasn’t the most convincing performance, because Liam had never feigned an illness in his life, but, possibly because Liam had never feigned an illness in his life, Clive let him go.

When he got to the park it was quarter past and Louis was standing there looking nervous. He hadn’t seen Liam yet, so Liam took a minute to just admire him from afar. He was beautiful, and Liam was so lucky. Lucky to have met him all those years ago and unbelievably lucky to be here now, getting a second chance.

Liam edged closer and cleared his throat. Louis had been staring at the ground, biting his lip, but now he looked up.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” said Liam.

“I got a bit pissed last night,” Louis said. “Probably more than I ought, for a Tuesday. You wouldn’t approve, I know. But then I had this dream, this amazing, wonderful dream, where you called me and said that you loved me, that you always had and you always would.”

“Louis,” said Liam, but Louis didn’t let him finish.

“Except it wasn’t a dream, was it?” he said, staring up at Liam. “Cos you’re here.”

“Nope,” said Liam, reaching out to put a hand on Louis’s waist. “It was real.”

Louis grinned at that, big and blinding, and then he pulled Liam in for a kiss. It was a pretty fantastic kiss, Liam thought. The best he’d had in five years, probably. Louis tasted like bacon. He’d probably bullied Harry into cooking him a hangover breakfast. He tasted like bacon, and like all the best bits of Liam’s life.

“You bastard,” Louis said. “You were late, and you’re never late. I thought I’d dreamt the whole thing.”

“Sorry,” said Liam, and kissed him again.

“I can’t believe,” said Louis, between kisses, “that I sent that email. I can’t believe I sent that email and it worked.”

“You’ve always been a very charming drunk,” said Liam.

“Did you really mean all that stuff you said on the phone? About loving me forever?”

“Yes. Did you mean everything you said in that email?”

“Yes,” said Louis. “Every drunken, misspelt word. It’s you Liam, it’s always been you. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

“You were so…” Liam searched for the right word. “Cool. That night at Harry’s party.” 

“Ha,” Louis snorted. “I didn’t feel cool. I walked into Harry’s kitchen and there was this David fucking Beckham lookalike, unbelievably fit, and then Niall called you Payno, and I realised that the David Beckham lookalike was also my ex-boyfriend. I was furious, because I’d just decided I was over you, and here you were looking hotter than ever. And you were just as sweet and lovely as ever. But I refused to still be in love with you.” He shrugged. “Didn’t work out, I guess.”

“I’m glad,” said Liam.

“I know you were joking about the June wedding,” Louis said, sounding nervous, “but I brought you this, just in case I wasn’t dreaming, and you wanted it back.” He reached into his pocket and fished out a slightly battered silver ring.

Liam stared down at it. It wasn’t fancy or expensive. Louis had brought it second-hand with his first paycheque from the toy store, and Liam had been so frustrated, because they needed that money for rent. But Louis had said “This is _important_ Liam,” so Liam had worn it, and treasured it, and they’d had nothing but beans on toast until Louis’s second pay came through.  Liam had left it on the kitchen table when he’d left. He didn’t know what he’d expected Louis to do with it, but it wasn’t that he’d keep it.

Liam had been joking about the June wedding, mostly, but took the ring from Louis and slipped it on.

“I have quite got enough for one of those yet,” Louis said, nodding towards the houses on the crescent. “But I’m getting there. I’ll buy you one still.”

Liam laughed. “Louis,” he said. “I never needed you to buy me one of those houses. My dream house for us was never anything fancy, just some place modest with a back garden for a kickabout. You’d break things and I’d fix them and the kids would make a mess.”

“The kids?” Louis asked.

“Well, yeah,” said Liam. “My dream home with you always had kids in it, in my head.”

“Oh,” said Louis.

“It was never about how much money you had or how successful I thought you were going to be,” Liam tried to explain. “That’s not why I left you. I don’t care about that, I never did really. It was about being young, and being scared. I don’t know if I made the right decision, leaving you then. Some days it feels like the worst mistake of my life, and some days I still think it was sensible. But I’m a grown up now, and I’m not scared anymore. I want to be with you, and I’d want to be with you even if you never did anything more impressive than get that job in that toy store.”

Louis didn’t look convinced. “Besides,” Liam added. “I fucking hate Bath.”

Louis let out a surprised cackle. “All right,” he said. “Fair enough. We can live wherever you want.”

Liam smiled. Louis smiled. They held hands, just standing there for a while. The sun wasn’t shining; it was a cold grey day in late January. But Liam felt filled with the same warmth he had all those years ago. The same sense of possibility.

“Liam,” said Louis. “Have we done enough talking about our feelings yet? Can we go home and have sex?”

“All right,” said Liam with a laugh.

—

He certainly wasn’t laughing by the time they got back to his flat, a nervous thrill running through him, hands shaking slightly as he tried to unlock his front door. And then they were inside and frantically kissing against the door and then Louis tripped trying to get out of his jeans and suddenly Liam was laughing again and Louis was pouting and calling Liam a bully and Liam remembered that sex with Louis wasn’t scary at all, so he sunk to the ground where Louis was sprawled and carefully finished peeling off Louis’s pants and then very slowly sucked him off while Louis swore and called him a tease. And then they made it to the bed, finally, and had sex (“Made love,” said Louis mockingly, but Liam just smirked and twisted his fingers deeper inside Louis until he was too breathless to make snarky comments anymore) and then they fell asleep, tangled together, and when Liam woke up again it was early evening and Louis was still wrapped around him and he just felt so fucking happy, really.

Louis was still there when Liam made them dinner, stealing food out of the pan and trying to waltz Liam up and down the kitchen, and he was still there the next morning when Liam got up to leave for work, sleepily trying to tug Liam back under the covers.

He was still there when Liam got home, but he wasn’t alone. Zayn was there too. Liam had been worried about how to explain getting back together with Louis to Zayn, not because he had any lingering doubts, but because he was worried he wouldn’t be able to convey his extreme certainty to Zayn. But it looked like there was no need. The two of them were sat on Liam’s sofa playing video games, pizza box on the coffee table, empty crisp packets and cans of coke scattered around them. It was a scene startling in its familiarity, like Liam had walked backwards in time and opened the door to their university flat.

“Leeyum,” said Zayn, barely looking up from the tv. “Your boyfriend’s cheating again.”

“Am not!” said Louis indignantly.

“How do you cheat at Mario Kart?” Liam asked.

“Dunno,” said Zayn. “But if anyone could manage it would be Louis.”

“Fair enough,” said Liam.

“Yes!” shouted Louis, as his car crossed the line. Zayn groaned. Louis just grinned and went to give Liam a hello kiss. “Hey babe,” he said. “You play Zayn for a bit, I’m gonna go for a smoke.”

Then he slipped out the front door leaving Zayn and Liam alone.

“So you two finally made up then,” Liam said.

Zayn shrugged. “You know Louis. He knows how to grovel when he wants to. Has to, he’s so good at pissing people off.” Liam snorted. “Also, you were right,” Zayn said. “He does care about you.”

Liam grinned at that. Zayn narrowed his eyes. “But you’ve been avoiding me,” he said, accusatory.

Liam looked guilty. “I didn’t quite know what to say. You were pretty in favour of me breaking up with him, back then.”

“Yeah,” said Zayn. “It seemed like the right decision at the time. Doesn’t mean being together is the wrong one now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn said, with a smile. “Now come here so I can beat you.”

“No chance, mate,” said Liam, throwing himself onto the couch and grabbing the controller.

By the time Louis returned Liam and Zayn were locked in a deadly battle, Liam just slightly ahead.  “Yes, Liam, beat him!” Louis crowed, flopping down next to them.

And with Louis beside him, it felt like there was no way he could possibly lose.

—

They didn’t have their June wedding, not that year. They both agreed that was a little too soon, even for them. They had it the year after instead.

Liam wished he could say that his family was happy for him, that they loved Louis as much as he did. But even Louis’s successful career and growing fame hadn’t endeared him to them, although Liam knew his mum had liked the period drama he’d shot in Bath, despite condescendingly describing it as “very ITV”. Liam had liked it anyway. Louis was fucking hot in breeches. 

He’d had this fantasy once, that when he got married his mum would cry and say she’d been wrong all this time and that she so was happy he’d found someone to love, and that his dad would give him a gruff but congratulatory pat on the back and say he’d done good. None of that happened, of course, but they came to the wedding and his mum wore a nice hat and Nicola and Ruth didn’t fight too loudly at the reception, so Liam counted it as a win.

And it didn’t matter really, because Zayn was there, and Niall, and Nick and Harry, together again (“Oh,” said Louis. “Apparently I sent him an email too. Called him a tosser who made Harry cry. He called to apologize not long after you.”), and all Louis’s London friends, and some of their friends from uni. And Louis’s family, who’d embraced Liam, welcomed him back into their family with open arms. Louis’s mum cried buckets at the ceremony, more than enough to make up for Liam’s mum’s disinterest, and Louis’s sisters spent most of the reception trying to convince Liam to dance with them, arguing over whose turn was next, until Louis told them to bugger off and stop trying to steal his husband.

It didn’t matter in the end that Liam’s family weren’t great, because he’d made a new one.

All that mattered was that Liam finally, _finally_ got to marry Louis.

And, well. Who can be in doubt of what followed?

(they lived happily ever after)

 

 


End file.
